Be Mine Forever
by Flagg1991
Summary: A sequel to "Be My Valentine." Leni and Lincoln's blossoming relationship is threatened by an increasingly obsessive Ronnie Anne. Meanwhile, another Loud girl pines for love.
1. A Girl in Love

_**You're everything I hope for  
You're everything I need  
You are so beautiful to me**_

 _ **-**_ **Joe Cocker**

Leni Loud woke on the morning of Friday, February 28 with a smile: Warm sunshine spilled through the window and bathed her in its golden rays, making her think of old paintings she'd seen of, like, religious figures standing in shafts of heavenly light. _Look at him,_ that cosmic glow said, _he's special_. Well...so was she, she mused. At least that's how Lincoln made her feel. She stretched, rolled her neck, and allowed herself a moment to think of her beloved, his face forming in her mind's eye from the void: His beautiful smile, his big, loving eyes, his cute freckles. Leni delight in touching those freckles when they snuggled, counting them again and again. One...two...three...four...five...six. Six adorable freckles on his kissable cheeks. And his little cowlick...he was _totes_ the cutest thing ever.

She sighed happily and scrunched her shoulders. The way he looked at her, the way he held her hand...it made her feel like she was the only girl in the world; never before had she felt so beautiful, loved, and at peace than she did now. She was _so_ glad that she listened to Lori's advice and went after her Lincy. If she hadn't, she would be so sad right now, her tummy full of lovesickness and her heart aching. How long had she lived that way? A year? More? It was hard to say, since there was no moment she could point to and say "that's when I fell in love with him." It was a gradual thing, a slide rather than a fall. She always felt a special love for her only brother. He was her Lincy, after all. So thoughtful and loving and upbeat. He reminded her of a puppy dog. Cute and happy and so darn loveable.

The first strains of romantic love she could remember feeling for him came...last summer? Or was it September? She thought school was in, but she also remembered it being not too long after the Fourth of July. She was coming up the walkway to the porch when her sandal broke and she fell, landing hard on one knee. Pain exploded through her body, and she cried out. Lincoln was sitting in a high branch of the tree overhanging the sidewalk, a comic book in his hands. When she yelled, he looked up and his face went white. He dropped the comic, jumped down, landed on his feet, his knees slightly bending, and ran over, his feet pounding and his arms pumping.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he knelt beside her, a protective hand landing on her back.

"I-I'm fine," Leni replied, her lips quivering and her eyes flooding with tears. She blinked them back and tried to stand, but hot pain radiated from her poor knee, and she hissed over clenched teeth. She was sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds don't cry when they skin their knees. She had to be grown-up.

The tears fell anyway, and Lincoln went stiff, panic in his eyes. "Just...help me," Leni said.

"O-Okay." He got to his feet and looked around. It was clear that he didn't know what to do. Even in her wounded state, Leni thought his stricken expression was cute.

"Help me up." She offered him her hand, and he took it, pulling her to her feet. Pain engulfed her leg, and she moaned. Lincoln slipped under her shoulder and helped her inside and up the stairs. She started going into her room, but Lincoln steered her to the bathroom. "No, Leni," he said, "we have to clean that cut."

Leni's heart clutched. "I-I don't want to."

"We have to. Or it'll get infected."

He led her into the bathroom, closed the toilet lid, and sat her down. Then he went over to the cabinet by the sink, opened it, and rummaged around. Leni sniffled and leaned forward to look at her hurt knee. It wasn't bad, really; it looked like an ugly rash. Keyword ugly. Leni didn't like to look ugly. She liked looking pretty and beautiful. She glanced over at Lincoln and suddenly wondered what he thought of her knee. Was he grossed out? Did he think she was hideous now? His opinion had always been important to her, but right now, the thought that he might be repulsed by her shattered her heart into a million pieces. When he turned away from the cabinet, his arms filled with medical supplies, Leni gasped and covered her face with her hands so that she wouldn't see the revulsion on his face,

"That's a pretty bad scratch," he said as he knelt and fanned the owie supplies across the floor. Leni watched him through her fingers. His head was down as he opened a bottle of peroxide, held a piece of cotton to its lips, and turned it quickly upside-down-then-right-side-up. When he looked up at her, she closed the gaps in her fingers, her breath catching in her throat.

"A-Are you okay?" he asked.

Leni shook her head, her hair swishing.

"What's wrong?"

Leni took a deep breath. "I'm ugly," she said.

"What? No you're not."

"You think my leg's gross."

"No I don't," he said. He patted her thigh. "It's a scratch. It happens."

The tone of his voice was reassuring. She fanned her fingers open and looked at him. He was wearing a tiny half-smile. "Really?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, "you're..." he paused, looking slightly uncomfortable, "...you're beautiful."

Leni's heart skipped a beat. Her hands fell into her lap. "Really?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, the cutest little blush touching his cheeks. "Now...this may sting a little."

Leni clenched her teeth as he cleaned the wound. It _did_ sting, just like it always did.

"So, how was the mall?" he asked.

"Oh, it was _totes_ awesome. I saw the _cutest_ dress, but they didn't have it in my size so I went to the shoe store and bought these adorable sandals...which I was just wearing." She sighed.

"At least you have _one_ sandal," he said as he rubbed Neosporin onto her wound. It was cold against her skin.

She laughed. Like, _really_ laughed. He was so _funny_ sometimes. And cute.

He ripped open a Band-Aid and pressed it against her cut. She looked down at it. There was a picture of a cute cartoon doggie on it.

"All done," he said, and started gathering the supplies together. As she watched him put them away, she thought, her heart pounding, _He'd make a good boyfriend._

It didn't occur to her until later that she didn't mean that, like, in general; she meant a good boyfriend for _her_. That was wrong. He was her brother and your brother can't be your boyfriend. It...just didn't happen. You could love your brother and think he's adorable and sweet and nice, but you couldn't be his girlfriend. Nope.

The more she thought about him, and the more she watched him, the more she realized she was right. He _would_ make a good boyfriend. In general. He was thoughtful, kind, compassionate, loving, considerate, giving, loyal, charitable, sweet, gentle, responsible, determined, dedicated, and a thousand other words that Leni couldn't think of or didn't know. He was always there for his sisters when they needed him, even if he didn't want to be sometimes. _That's_ how you know someone's _really_ good. They do nice things even when they don't feel like it. Lincoln went one further. He did nice things even when he knew that _doing_ those nice things would hurt him. Like the time he took the blame for clogging the toilet with that fairy unicorn book when it was actually Lucy's. Leni knew because she saw Lucy reading it one night, but Leni didn't tell because she didn't want Lucy to get made fun of.

How sweet of him to do that! Lori and the others _still_ picked on him about liking fairy unicorns, and that happened, like, months ago. Not many brothers would do that. Lincoln was a rare gem, a precious stone that they were all lucky to have even if they didn't realize it.

Leni was so happy to have him as her brother, but she was sad too, because she wanted him as more; she wanted to be his girlfriend.

She grappled with these feelings for a long time before she finally decided she didn't care if he _was_ her brother. She was in love with him and that was that.

But even if she was okay, she didn't know if _he_ would be okay with it. He might think she was creepy or gross, and she couldn't stand the idea of him thinking that way about her, so she pined and longed from afar, her heart beating fast every time he was near, her stomach fluttering at the mere mention of his name. It hurt to love him, but it felt good too. It made her happy, and it made her sad. She got depressed, and after a while, Lori talked to her, and Leni told her everything.

"If you feel that way, tell him," Lori said.

Leni's heart seized. "What if he hates me?"

"He won't hate you. He loves you."

Her stomach was sick, and she hugged herself. "I'm so scared he'll think I'm gross and want nothing to do with me ever again."

Telling Lincoln how she felt was, like, a gamble. She could wind up with a lover...or she could lose her only brother. Even the slightest possibility of the latter was just _too_ much. She'd rather be lovesick for ever and ever and have her brother than to _try_ and end up losing him. Lori kept telling her that she wouldn't lose Lincoln, and Lori was smarter, and older, and knew what she was talking about, so finally, Leni decided to try.

And she was _soooo_ glad she did because Lincoln loved her too, and they were so happy together!

Presently, Leni sat up and stretched. Lori was still asleep, which meant Leni would get to take her shower first. It didn't happen often, but it _did_ happen.

Smiling to herself, she got up, tip-toed into the hall, and shut the door softly behind her. In the bathroom, she stripped and climbed into the tub. The hot water felt good against her skin, and she began to hum as she lathered her body. Another day of loving Lincy lie ahead, and she looked forward to it, just as she now looked forward to _every_ day...


	2. For the Rest of His Life

_**Right here, right now  
there is no other place I want to be**_

 **\- Jesus Jones**

* * *

The shrill cry of the alarm clock startled Lincoln Loud from a sound, dreamless sleep, his eyes fluttering open and his lips creasing in a frown that was more habit than genuine. He reached out, slapped the snooze button, and snuggled once more under the blankets, loath to leave the heat he had created during the night: To cut down on their energy bill, Mom and Dad had taken to keeping the thermostat just above the freezing mark. You might not die of hypothermia, but you'd almost wish you would.

For five minutes, Lincoln lie on his side, his eyes closed and his mind clear. Normally, he would be struggling to stay awake as he waited for the last possible minute to rise, but over the past two weeks, he'd been sleeping better. Deeper. Longer. He told himself his habit of staying up late and reading comics or staring up at the ceiling and sorting through his anxiety had finally caught up with him, but he knew that was it: It was Leni. Being with her, holding her hand and looking into her big, loving eyes put him at ease. All of his fears and worries...well, they didn't matter anymore, because how could they when he had Leni? In the Bible it says something like: "If God is with us, who can be against us?" That's how he felt about Leni. If Leni loved him, who (or what) could bother him? Flunking a math test? Something stupid he said in the third grade? Bullies? Nope. None of it could touch him. For the first time in his entire life he was at peace.

And it was a strange feeling.

Lincoln loved his family, and he knew they loved him. He never questioned their feelings just as he hoped they would never question his. Regardless of that, he always felt somewhat out of place in his home. It wasn't something that bothered him constantly; it would creep up only occasionally, and even then it was but a vague shadow in his heart. He was the only boy in a family of ten girls, how could he _not_ feel out of place? He imagined that what he felt was not much different from what a black man must feel in a crowd of white people: A keen sense of being different and not quite _fitting_ like everyone else. Maybe that wasn't the best analogy, but the image it conjured in his head aptly and succulently described, to him at least, his state of being. He was _different_ than the people surrounding him, even though they shared commonalities and relational bonds. He saw his sisters as a perfect unit, and himself as the outsider. They never made him _feel_ that way (at least any more than they might occasionally make one another feel that way), but it was an impression that stuck with him even though he knew it wasn't exactly correct.

With Leni...Lincoln did not feel out of place. At all. Rationally or irrationally. He felt as though he _belonged_ , he felt like a man in a tailored suit that was crafted to fit him perfectly. Leni felt _right_. When they snuggled and watched TV, or held hands, or simply sat together in comfortable silence, Lincoln knew that he was where he should be, that there was nowhere on the face of the earth for him but _right here_. When he looked into her big brown eyes, so warm and eager and brimming with tenderness, he felt love like he'd never felt love before. It wasn't an abstract concept, it was a physical thing. One that maybe he couldn't see, but one that was there as the wind was there, as the smell of flowers was there, as the heat of the day was there.

And it was the best feeling in the world.

Presently, Lincoln slapped the wailing alarm clock once more and sat up. Bright morning sun fell through the window, and now that he listened, he could hear the chirruping of birds. So the never-ending rain was finally over? About time. It started raining on Tuesday and had done nothing _but_ for the rest of the week. When he got home from school yesterday, the front yard was a soupy mess and the backyard was a virtual lake. Though Lana loved playing in the mud, she did not ask to go out as the rain and wind were bitterly cold. Even Lynn, who liked to imagine she was the toughest person on the planet (she wasn't, but she _was_ pretty tough) shied at the chance to go out. Eleven kids, ranging in ages from a year to seventeen, were cooped up inside with little to do but argue half-heartedly over what to watch on TV. Leni sat in the armchair, and Lincoln sat between her legs, allowing her to comb his hair and play with his cowlick. As she did, she prattled happily about her day and about the new dress designs she was working on. Lincoln listened, a tiny smile on his face. Her voice was sweet and musical, and it made his heart skip a crazy beat. Her touch was warm and light, lulling him into a tranquil half-daze like a cat on its master's lap.

Listening to the birds, he got up, hurriedly dressed, and went into the hall, which stood empty. What, no line today? In the bathroom, he peed, washed his hands, and checked himself in the mirror. No crusted drool? Check. Hair not messed up? Check. _Looking good, Loud,_ he thought with a crooked smile. He was surprised to find himself being earnest in that assessment. He was actually _happy_ with the way he looked...white hair, buck-teeth, and freckles notwithstanding. He was handsome...he knew because Leni told him so.

Done, he went downstairs and found all of his sisters gathered at the dining room table; his parents had already left for work, Dad taking the bus and Mom riding with a coworker. When he entered, he spotted Leni in her customary spot. She saw him and flashed a big smile. "Hi, Lincy!"

"Hi," he grinned.

"Morning, Linc!" Luan said.

"Good morning, Lincoln," Lola said.

"Morning, morning, morning," Lincoln said and started toward the open chair between Leni and Luan. It was an unspoken rule among the other siblings that if there was a free spot next to Lincoln or Leni, whether in the van, on the couch, or at the table, if was to be left free for the other. Even so, Leni excitedly patted the seat of the chair. "Sit here!"

A bowl of cereal waited for him, and he smiled. Leni was always doing things like that: Making his plate at dinner, laying out his clothes for the next day while he was in the shower. It was a constant reminder that she loved him, and every time he saw his jeans and shirt lying on his bed or his plate already made, emotion welled in his throat. He loved her so much.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, turning to him as he sat.

"Like a baby," he said, and squeezed her hand.

"You _are_ a baby. _My_ baby."

She threw her arms around his shoulder and hugged him. The others didn't know whether to smile because it was sweet, or groan because it was so mushy. They all did a little of both.

"How did _you_ sleep?"

"Like a Lincoln," she chirruped and turned back to her plate. "Though I think I had a dream. I can't remember what it was about, though." She stroked her chin thoughtfully then shrugged.

"Hey, Linc," Luan said, leaning in, "wanna hear a joke?"

Lincoln glanced at her. Though he never outright admitted it, he liked Luan's jokes. Sure, they were stupid, but that's what made them funny. "Sure. Gimme what you got."

"Alright," she said, straightening her shoulders, "why do scuba divers fall backwards off the boat?"

Even though Lincoln knew it was a joke, he searched his mind anyway. Why _did_ they fall backwards off the boat? Why not go forward? Or jump feet first? It was the little things like this that made you think.

"I don't know," he finally said, and took a bite of his cereal. It was starting to get soggy...which is how he liked it. "Why?"

Luan rolled her eyes in faux exasperation. "Because if they fell forward they'd still be in the boat. Come on, Linc."

Lincoln laughed and shook his head. Stupid but funny. Her delivery had a lot to do with it, he suspected. He turned to Leni, whose brow was knitted in something approaching confusion. Lincoln frowned, but then she smiled. "Oh, I get it. When she said forward, I pictured them sitting there and falling forward _into_ the water."

She smiled and shook her head. "Blonde moment!"

Lincoln leaned forward and rested his head on her bare arm. "You're cute."

"Thank you, Lincy! So are you!"

After breakfast, the Loud kids gathered in the living room. Lori did a quick head count, her lips moving silently as she counted. "Alright. Everyone who's coming with me, come on."

Lori drove herself, Leni, Luna, and the younger kids to school. Lincoln, Lynn, and Luan walked because the middle school was only a mile and a half away. Before parting, Lincoln wrapped his arms around Leni's waist and hugged her. "I love you," he said.

"I love _you_ ," she said, bending to kiss him on the top of the head. "Have a good day, okay?"

He looked up at her and smiled. "I will. You too."

For a minute he simply held her, loathe to let her go, then he pulled himself away. At the door, he threw one final glance over his shoulder. She smiled at waved at him. He waved back.

The only drawback to their being together was the being apart during the day. After being in Leni's warm arms, anything else was cold...bleak even. He heaved a sigh as he hurried to catch up to Lynn and Luan. On the bright side, he had coming home to her to look forward to, and no matter how terrible a day he had, the thought of walking through the door and seeing _his_ Leni, her eyes filled with love, got him by.

He hoped to do that for the rest of his life.


	3. The Darker Side of Love

_**I ain't got nobody**_

 _ **Nobody, nobody cares for me  
I'm so sad and lonely  
Sad and lonely**_

 **\- David Lee Roth**

 _ **Can't let go and it doesn't matter how I try  
I gave it up  
So easily  
To you my love  
To dreams that never will come true  
Am I strong enough to see it through  
Go crazy is what I will do**_

 **\- Yvonne Elliman**

* * *

Luan Loud walked to school beside her brother, her books hugged against her chest and her mind far away. She was thinking of Lincoln. And Leni. They looked so happy together, and the way they interacted with _so_ sweet it made Luan's heart ache.

She wanted what they had.

It's funny how sometimes you don't know you're missing something until you see someone else with it. After Leni and Lincoln got together, Luan realized just how badly she wanted a boyfriend of her own, someone to hold her hand and look in her eyes and make her feel beautiful, someone she could give all the love she had stored in her heart to. Looking around, she saw happy couples everywhere, and this made her feel so totally alone that she wanted to cry. At night, under the covers, she fantasized about having someone there with her, someone she could hug and hold and be happy with. She didn't know many boys, though...she didn't know many people at all, come to think of it (she had friends but only a couple, and she was okay with that). And while boys asked other girls out, no one ever asked _her_ out. She never got love notes like the other girls and no one ever flirted with her.

She didn't know why...until she looked in the mirror, and then she did: She was ugly, with a massive overbite and too-big eyes. She looked like a cartoon chipmunk, only cartoon chipmunks are cute and she wasn't because she was a real person and real people aren't supposed to look that way. No wonder no boys wanted to go out with her.

Oh, how she wished one would, though. She would be the _best_ girlfriend ever if only someone would give her a chance. She would love him and hold him and make him _so, so, so_ happy. She would write him sappy little love letters, write his name on the back of her hand with marker and proudly display it for all to see, be there when he needed her...

"You alright?" Lincoln asked, startling her from her reprieve.

She glanced at him. "Yeah," she said, "why?"

Lincoln shrugged. "You seem kind of...I don't know, thoughtful?"

She tossed her head, her ponytail swinging up and smacking her ear. "Just thinking up new jokes," she said with a forced smile. "A comedian always have to be thinking."

Lincoln seemed satisfied, and when they reached the elementary school, she nudged him in the ribs. "See you later, Linc!"

"See you."

When she got to school ten minutes later, she drew a sad sigh and went in, silently hoping against hope that today would be the day she would meet someone she could love.

 _You should ask someone out instead of sitting around and waiting for someone to ask_ you _out._

Luan's stomach tightened and cold horror swept through her. B-But...she had no idea how to talk to boys. She'd wind up making herself look stupid. And when the inevitable rejection came...she didn't know if she could take it, not in her current state. It would kill her.

No, she would _not_ ask a boy out. She would scurry through her day with emptiness in her chest. She would watch all the happy couples and sigh, her heart aching. She would wish and hope and dream and fantasize, but nothing would come of it. At the end of the day, she would go home and still be alone, her hear overflowing with love that no boy wanted. And tonight, when Luna was asleep, she would cry into her pillow like she did most nights, then, before drifting off, she would clutch it to her chest and pretend it was someone who loved her despite her overbite and her too-big eyes and her braces.

And tomorrow, it would start all over again.

* * *

The girl with the black hair drew a heavy breath into constricted lungs and released it slowly, evenly. She lifted a hand to her face and trailed the wet tracks left by her tears; they burned hotly against the soft padding of her fingertips.

 _It's your own fault,_ she told herself as she swallowed against a dry throat. She hugged herself and bent forward as if to quash the raging tempest in her stomach, but there was no relief. _You blew it._

Yes. Yes, she did. She laughed harshly. Boys like Lincoln Loud come around once in a lifetime, and if you let them get away, you spent the rest of your life wondering what could have been. You marry someone else, have children, build a life...but the specter of that long ago love haunts you even so. She thought back to _Titanic_ , that long, boring ass movie her mother loved so much. It was about a man and a woman falling in love on a ship that hits an iceberg and sinks. The man dies but the woman survives and lives to be older than dirt, but she never forgets him. All those years, all that _living_ , and he stayed with her. She married, but her heart didn't belong to her husband. How sad is that? How fucking _sad?_

She swallowed again. _Very_ sad. She knew firsthand, because her heart would always belong to Lincoln. She would _never_ meet another like him. He was sweet and kind and pure, totally unlike all the other boys she had ever known. Other boys were jerks. They were selfish and stupid and lied, but not Lincoln. Lincoln was...well, Lincoln was _perfect_.

And she messed it up. _One chance,_ she told herself, _you had one chance..._

She knew Lincoln liked her, had known it since the day he kissed her outside his house and she punched him in the face. She didn't mean to hit him; she just reacted. Any girl would if a boy randomly kissed them, even if they liked that boy, right? Only that wasn't it and she knew it, or at least not entirely it. When he kissed her, she panicked. In a flash, she saw the boy she liked and admired expressing interest in her, and that terrified her, because what if he was like all the others? What if she opened her heart to him and everything she thought she knew about him was a lie? She didn't think she could handle that. She wanted him to like her, she wanted to be his girlfriend eventually, and she was kind-of-actively pursuing it, but when it happened, and the fantasy suddenly became reality – cold, hard, stark reality – it scared the shit out of her, so she knocked him on his ass and fled. Forget it. She'd rather build a romanticized image of him in her heart than take his hand and find out she was wrong.

But she turned around and came back because...because she didn't know! Her heart told her to. She resolved that day to move slowly, to get to know him entirely, to give him enough time to show her who he really was...then, when she was sure...only...she _was_ sure, and had been for a long time now. She hesitated, though, like a woman holding a gun to her head and squeezing the trigger, only to let up at the last moment, take a deep breath, and try again. She kept them friends because even though she knew he was boyfriend material...hell, _husband_ material...she was so fucking scared to take that leap. So, so, so scared.

And that hesitancy cost her. It cost her _big_. Someone else came along and captured Lincoln's heart, someone who wasn't a fraidy-cat like her, someone who wasn't cynical and anxious and scared. And what could she do? She and Lincoln were just friends. She ribbed him about it _Aw, Lincoln's got a girlfriend!_ but it hurt her so bad she cried sometimes.

She should have been brave. She should have told him exactly how she felt and she should have taken their relationship to the next stage.

But she didn't.

She squeezed her eyes closed against a rush of molten tears. She tried to fight them back, but they came harder, and the dam burst. She bent her head between her knees, her hair shutting out the world, and wept bitterly, all of the pain and sorrow and – yes, even anger – flooding out of her and sliding down her face, forming beads on her chin and dropping onto the carpet. She would do everything different if she could. That day he kissed her in his front yard, she would throw her arms around his neck and kiss him back; the day he fumblingly asked what they were and she said friends, she would tell him how special he was to her and how much she wanted to be with him. She would take it all back if she had just one more chance. Just one more chance.

A knock at the door brought her out of her misery. She blinked and forced her voice into an even timbre. "Yeah?"

"You almost ready?" Bobby asked, his voice muffled.

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the flats of her palms. "Yeah. Just...give me a minute."

Blinking, she got up and crossed to her dresser. In the mirror, her eyes were red and puffy. It was obvious she had been crying. She didn't want anyone to know, least of all Bobby, her loving older brother, who would make a big deal out of it and drag the story out of her: She could lie to her teachers and even to her mother, but not to Bobby, never to Bobby. He was her friend, her protector, her rock...all he had to do was put his hand on her shoulder and she turned to jelly, her defenses gone, her façade cracked. He made her feel much the same way Lincoln did. Safe. Warm. At peace.

Sighing, she went to the door and opened it, hoping he wasn't waiting for her in the hall. He wasn't. She went to the bathroom, ran cold water in the sink, cupped her hands beneath the fall, and splashed her face, droplets splattering her hair and her hoodie. In the mirror, her eyes were less red. She could just be tired.

In the living room, Bobby was sitting on the arm of the couch with crossed arms, his head back and his eyes closed. Like Ronnie, he was not a morning person. She took a deep breath and put on her happy face. "Come on, lazy," she said and slapped his knee. "We're gonna be late."

Bobby started, his head whipping around. "Okay."

Outside, the day was cold and blustery but bright. Ronnie shivered and hugged herself as Bobby locked the door. The middle school was a half mile south. On a nice day it was a short, pleasant walk. On a day like this, it was like trekking through the Antarctic wilderness. Uphill. In a blizzard.

"I _hate_ winter," she said as she and Bobby started walking.

"Sometimes I think it hates us too," he said. Though the past two weeks had been relatively nice, this winter had been especially harsh. In December, a record-breaking blizzard swept through Michigan, burying the entire world under nearly two feet of snow. Then there was _another_ big storm in January.

"It can go to hell," she shuddered as the wind needled her. They were crossing the intersection of Park and Macchiato. A big yellow school bus idled at the light, the driver looking frazzled through the front window.

"It would freeze hell over, little sis." Wind buffeted them, and he hugged himself. "I wouldn't mind a trip to hell right now, though."

They parted at the middle school, Ronnie hugging him and finding herself not wanting to let go. _Please don't leave me,_ she thought, and cringed inwardly at the needing quality of it. She let go, grinned, and socked him in the arm. "Catch ya later!"

"Have a good day," he said, wincing and rubbing his arm.

Ronnie sighed as she pushed through the big double doors. Another day of pretending she was okay, another day of pretending she didn't want to cry. She glanced up at the clock above the entrance to the front office. It was 7:50. She had ten minutes to kill before the first bell rang. She started for the cafeteria but stopped. What if she saw Lincoln?

 _Of_ course _you're going to see him, you have fifty classes with him!_ Right. She had to suck it up. In the cafeteria, kids ate their breakfast and talked, their voices forming a roaring din. She sat at an empty table and went to take out her phone, but stopped when she realized she didn't _want_ to. Not that she wanted to sit there and stare at the walls either. She didn't want to do anything...except maybe go home, crawl under the covers, and forget she existed.

She had to get a grip. This was in –

That thought died when she spotted Lincoln across the room, sitting next to Clyde and talking to some who had their back to her. He looked...he looked so happy, so at ease. Ronnie's stomach clenched. What did she look like, she wondered, what did she _sound_ like?

She was probably ugly and sounded like a man.

Ronnie sighed again. _I should have snapped him up when I had the chance._

Sitting there, surrounded by a thousand kids but totally alone, Ronnie Anne Santiago silently loved Lincoln Loud.

And _hated_ his girlfriend.


	4. Love Heals But it Hurts Too

The world is _so_ beautiful. Take that tree outside. It was, like, a work of art or something. Maybe a sculpture. Or a statue. Leni gazed out the window at it with her chin in her palm, trying to decide which it was. There were no leaves since it was winter, so it had kind of a...stark beauty, like the desert. Leni didn't know much about art, but she was reminded of a painting she saw once that showed soggy, droopy clocks hanging over barren tree branches like wet laundry. That one made her scared a little...but it was also pretty.

She sighed dreamily as she turned back to the teacher, who was at the whiteboard with his back to the class. She saw math equations that may as well have been Chinese characters for all she understood them. She was bad at math, and that made her sad, normally, but lately, it didn't matter, because she had Lincoln and she was happy and no hard math questions were strong enough to bring her down. She was, like, one of those old scales where you put something on one side and something else on the other, and the cross part dips whichever way is heavier. Lincy was on one side, and no matter what went on the other side, he was heavier.

She wished she could be better at math though. She knew it disappointed her parents when she brought home F's, and she'd worked _reaaaally_ hard to bring up her grades in all her other classes. She even had a B overall in history. A B! That was good...for her. Math, though...she just couldn't grasp it. It was like its edges were all slick with butter and when she tried to grab ahold, her fingers slipped off and she smacked her face on it. It was _really_ frustrating.

But at the end of the day she came home and had Lincoln, so it wasn't _that_ bad. She was passing after all, and that's what mattered: She might be dumb, but she was smart enough to know that a lot of the stuff you learn in school will never have any bearing on your life...it's a piece of paper and a funny square hat with a tassel that does.

Really...she couldn't ask for anything more. Her life was perfect.

When the bell rang, she gathered up her things and went to her locker, a spring in her step. She hummed a song she heard on the radio once. She couldn't remember the words (or even if a man sang it or a woman), but the melody was beautiful, and it made her think of Lincoln. She couldn't wait for tomorrow. She and Lincoln were going on a date. She didn't know to where yet, but it didn't matter. Ooo, pizza would be nice. Then maybe a walk in the park. It was supposed to be in the low forties all weekend, and after the past couple months, that was, like, practically tank-top weather. She envisioned them walking hand-in-hand through the park and a smile touched the corner of her lips.

She opened her locker, put her math book away, and grabbed her history book. She shut her locker and started when a face was there.

"Hey!" Kaitlyn Parker said.

Leni laughed and held her hand to her racing heart. "You scared me."

"Sorry," Kaitlyn said sheepishly. "I just wanted to see if you were free tomorrow."

Kaitlyn was one of Leni's closest friends. A tall, light-skinned black girl with curly black hair and blue eyes, Kaitlyn was the president of the high school fashion club, which met twice a week after school. Leni had known her since first grade, when Kaitlyn and her family moved to Royal Woods from Buffalo. Of all her friends, she had the most in common with Kaitlyn, since she had a big family too (three brothers, two sisters).

"Oh," Leni said, shutting the locker door. "No. Sorry. I have things to do."

"Shoot," Kaitlyn said. "I was hoping we could go to the mall."

"What about Sunday?" Leni asked as she and Kaitlyn started down the hall.

"I don't know," Kaitlyn said. "There's this big picnic thing after church and it'll probably last all day."

"I'm sorry," Leni said, feeling genuinely bad. She liked being with Kaitlyn. But she liked being with Lincoln even more.

Kaitlyn blew a puff of air that made her lips go _pfffft._ "It's okay."

In class, Leni did her best to focus on what Mr. Jordan was saying. Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939 and that's how WWII started. How did all the other countries get involved, though? Britain and France were trying to help Poland and Russia...was helping Germany? She thought Russia helped Britain and America. Then the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and Germany declared war on America. Uhhh, okay, but why? It made very little sense. Then again, doesn't war always?

She didn't like WWII. She liked the Revolution; for some reason, that period of history had always enchanted her, with its cobblestone streets, Colonial architecture, horse-drawn carriages, and powdered wigs. She _loved_ the British uniforms, especially the coats. Not a very smart thing to wear, though. Leni didn't know much about war, but she _did_ know you didn't want the enemy to see you, and putting on a bright red coat (and walking in a straight line with other people in bright red coats) didn't strike her as the way to keep someone from seeing you. Boy, were people stupid back then? If she went back in time to 1775 she'd be, like, a genius or something.

 _I have an idea! Let's, like, not wear this; they'll totes see us and shoot us._

She kind of liked the Civil War too, but they had the same problem. One side wore dark blue uniforms and the other wore gray. Once her teacher showed them a movie and there were a bunch of Union soldiers hiding in the woods, and it was so funny because all you saw was a bunch of green leaves and trees...then holy blue uniforms!

Blue was her favorite color. She was working on a blue dress that would look _so_ cute if she could just figure out how to finish it. She wasn't one to put designs aside once she started them, but this one dress was _reaaaally_ bothering her, so she stopped. She just couldn't get the neckline right. It looked ugly no matter _what_ she did.

Speaking of ugly, she had a pimple on the back of her shoulder and it was starting to itch. She tried to reach it, but couldn't. Her arms were too short. Maybe she could have Lincoln help her with it later. That was kind of a lot to ask, though. It might gross him out. She didn't want to gross him out. She wanted to always be beautiful for him and...

...she realized her mind was wandering. She blinked and focused on the teacher again. Alright. Hitler. What was the point of the armband the Nazis wore anyway? Why didn't they just stitch it _into_ their coats? Less chance of it slipping off. She imagined one of them going to do the stiff-armed Hitler salute only to have his armband fly off and smack Hitler in the face, and laughed out loud.

"Yes," Mr. Jordan said without turning from the board, "because the Holocaust was _hysterical_."

Leni clamped her hand over her mouth. Everyone turned to look at her, and she blushed. "Sorry," she said, "I wasn't laughing at that."

When everyone looked away, she slouched down in her chair. She could be _so_ stupid sometimes.

And that made her sad.

But Lincoln loved her anyway, and _that_ made her happy again.

* * *

Every day at lunch, Lincoln Loud opened his phone to a text from Leni. Some days it was simply a heart, some days it was a link to a sappy love song; today it was a simple line of text. _I love you and hope you have a good rest of your day!_ Lincoln grinned down at his phone and typed out a reply. Next to him, Clyde was reading from a science book as he ate. They had a test...tomorrow? The day after? and Clyde wanted to be prepared. It vaguely occurred to Lincoln that he should be studying as well. _When I'm done,_ he thought, adding a heart to his message. He read it over and wondered if he should add anything more. A smiley face? A laughing face? Nah, that'd be too much.

He hit SEND and slipped the phone back into his pocket just as Ronnie Anne Santiago dropped into the seat across from him. "'Sup, lame-o?" she asked.

"I'm about to hit the books," he said as he bent and took his science book from his backpack. "I do _not_ want to flunk this test."

"You should spend more time studying and less time hanging out with your girlfriend," Ronnie replied, snatching an apple from Clyde's tray and taking a bite.

Lincoln shrugged and opened the book. She wasn't _wrong_.

"If you want I can help you study," she said, and glanced over her shoulder.

"No, thanks," he said. "I'll just buckle down and do it myself." The truth was: If he was going to read long, boring passages from an oversized book, he wanted to do it while snuggling with Leni. He could sit the book out on his bed and they could lay side-by-side on their stomachs, stealing the occasional glance at each other, holding each other's hands, and leaning in to kiss each other. That sounded _sooo_ nice, it actually made him want to study!

"Alright," Ronnie said, her voice breaking. Lincoln looked up at her; she made a show of bowing her head, balling her fist, and coughing into it. "See you later." She got up and hurried away. Was she alright? He caught a brief flash of her face before she stood, and it looked like something was bothering her.

He started to call after her, but she was gone, disappeared into a crowd of kids. Great. Now he felt bad. Ronnie Anne Santiago was not straightforward with her feelings; it was quite possible she only offered to help him because she needed to get something off her chest. As far as Lincoln knew, he was closer to her than anyone outside of her family. If she had a problem and needed someone to talk to, she would most likely come to him.

 _Good job, Linc. One of your friends needed you and you blew them off._

He sighed. Once upon a time, Lincoln liked Ronnie Anne. And not in a plutonic way. He thought she liked him too, but as months passed and she evaded every attempt he made to move their relationship forward, he came to the conclusion that she didn't. Maybe she did in the beginning, but over time, hanging out with him, talking to him, getting to know him, she must have decided that she didn't...that he was good as a friend but not as more. This hurt him because he really did like her _a lot_ , but what can you do? You can't _force_ someone to like you. If the spark isn't there, it isn't there. He cared about her and was more than happy to have her as a friend, though before Leni, seeing her and talking to him made him sad because he so badly wanted to be with her.

"You alright?" Clyde asked.

"Huh?" Lincoln looked at him.

"You looked sad there for a minute."

"Oh." Had he? "I just feel bad. I think Ronnie Anne kind of needed me to be there for her and I wasn't."

Clyde's brow furrowed. "When?"

"Just now. She looked like she had something on her mind."

"Oh. If she was open with her emotions, this wouldn't be a problem. Dr. Lopez always says if you feel something you should say something because human beings aren't mind readers."

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah." He glanced down at the text book. The thought of processing words right now made his head ache.

He was sliding into darkness, and like a saving grace, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew even before he read the text that it was from Leni.

 _I can't wait to be home in your arms. I love you, Lincy!_

He smiled, Ronnie Anne Santiago totally forgotten.

* * *

She replayed the encounter over and over again in her mind, wincing at how close she came to crying in front of him. It was stupid to go to him in her current state. She should have known better. In fact, she _did_ know better. When she entered the lunchroom and her eyes instantly went to the table he sat at every day, she told herself she wasn't going to go anywhere _near_ him.

But as she waited in line, he ran ceaselessly through her mind, and pressure built up in her heart until she couldn't stand it anymore. She threw her empty tray into a trash barrel and made a B-line for Lincoln Loud, fixing him with her eyes and never looking away. _Play it cool_ , she told herself. Her stomach was sick and her heart pounded faster with every step she took. There was a lump in her throat. She didn't know what she would say, or what she would do, but she had to do and say _something_. Lincoln was precious; she couldn't let him go.

When she walked up, he was bent over his cellphone, a goofy little smile on his face, and she paused. He was probably talking to _her_ , the dirty, slimy bitch who took him away. He looked happy, and that made her so sad that she almost turned around and walked away, but her feet dragged her to the table anyway, and she sat, her heart crashing. "'Sup, lame-o?" she asked, thankful that her voice sounded steady. As soon as the words left her mouth, though, she kicked herself. _Maybe he'd love you if you stopped calling him names._

She hated herself. She bet his little _giiiirlfriend_ didn't call him mean names. She probably called him sickeningly cute pet names like "pookie" or something. The idea of saying something like that made her cringe, but Lincoln must like it, because look at how happy he is!

"I'm about to hit the books," Lincoln replied. He bent, rummaged in his backpack, and brought out a text book, which he opened on the table. "I do _not_ want to flunk this test."

 _You mean you do not want to talk to me_.

She blinked. That's what it was, wasn't it? As soon as she sat down he suddenly had to "hit the books"?

"You should spend more time studying and less time hanging out with your girlfriend," she said (Lincoln didn't notice the quivering venom she injected into the word _girlfriend_ ). She leaned over, grabbed an apple from Clyde's tray, and took a bite. She did this not because she wanted his stupid apple, but because her lips were trembling and she was afraid she would break down. She chewed and blinked. Lincoln was right there, so close she could lean over the table and kiss him, but he might as well have been on Mars.

With that _bitch_ of a girlfriend.

It was in that moment that Ronnie Anne Santiago decided to take Lincoln back. He was hers first, and she would make him _so_ much happier than that skank he was with. She would treat him like a king; she would be his slave, she would give herself entirely to him. Fuck her pride, fuck her self-respect. None of that mattered. Having Lincoln Loud...the most perfect boy on the face of the earth...was the only thing that mattered.

"If you want I can help you study," she said, then looked away because she felt her cheeks suddenly blush.

"No, thanks," he said, looking down at the book and _not_ at her. "I'll just buckle down and do it myself."

Ronnie's heart sank into her stomach. That's not what he meant. What he meant was: "I don't have time for you because I'm giving all my time to my little girlfriend, who swooped in and stole me from under your nose." Two months ago, if she suggested they study together, he would have jumped at the chance. Now, he was blowing her off with the ease of a man swatting a fly. Tears started to well in her eyes, and for a moment she didn't move, because the slightest movement would tip her over the edge. She swallowed hard. "Alright," she said; her voice cracked. She felt Lincoln look at her. She balled her fist and coughed into it so he would think she was sick and not on the verge of crying. "See you later."

She got up and scurried away as quickly as she could, her face burning with shame and her fists clenched in rage. Some blonde bimbo got in her way, and Ronnie shoulder-checked her. Outside, in the empty hall, she covered her face with her hands and tried one final time to fight back the tears, but they were coming whether she wanted them to or not. Taking a deep, shuddery breath, she went into the girls' bathroom, made sure it was empty, and then went into the far stall. She locked the door and sat on the toilet. She bent, pressed her palms to her face, and gave into the misery churning within her, the sound of her sobs echoing off the faded tiled walls. That girl had her claws so deep in Lincoln that she might as well just give up.

But she wouldn't.

If there was one thing in her whole life worth fighting for, it was Lincoln Loud. She would fight, and she would win. One day, Lincoln would be hers, and she would smother him with all the love and affection he could stand. She would _drown_ him in it.


	5. 25 Things to Drive Your Man Wild

Because the high school let out earlier than the elementary school, Leni got home a half hour before Lincoln. Though they had only been together for two weeks, being home without him was strange, and Leni didn't like it. It made her feel restless. Usually, she took the opportunity to do something nice for Lincoln, like make his bed or write him a letter and put it on his pillow. The other day she drew him a picture of them holding hands under a smiling sun. It was very childlike; she could do much better, but she didn't have much time, plus it was cute. Today, she went to his room and laid on his bed, curling up on her side and burying her head in his pillow. She breathed in his scent and sighed contentedly. She liked being in his room. It was like he was hugging her even though he wasn't here.

The sun falling through the window warmed her skin, and she felt so serene that she fell into a light doze, her brother's pillow hugged to her chest. She sank deeply enough to dream, but not deeply enough to fully lose touch with consciousness. In her dream, she was wearing a white dress and sitting in the shade of a leafy tree, her legs stretched out and the grass tickling her toes. She was bathed in the sunshine, and she was happier than she had ever been before in her life. Lincoln appeared next to her, and she smiled. He took her hand and squeezed it, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and started stroking her hair. It felt _sooo_ good. It was like little sparks were racing down her spine. She let out a long _mmmmm_ and opened her eyes.

She rolled over, and Lincoln was sitting over her, his fingers threading through her hair. She smiled. "Hey," she muttered.

"Hey," he replied, "taking a nap?"

"I guess." she stretched. "I didn't mean to." She started to sit up, but Lincoln put his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," he said. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you, but...I wanted to touch your hair."

She smiled and drew him to her. Together they lay in the light of the sun, his head resting on her chest and her arm around his shoulders, their fingers woven together. "How was your day?" Leni asked.

"Good," he said, "except..." he trailed off.

"What?" she asked.

Lincoln sighed. "It's nothing, really."

Leni rolled onto her side and looked deeply into her brother's eyes. She laid a hand on his cheek. He sounded sad and that made her sad. "What?"

"It's just..." he looked away. "I feel kind of bad. I think Ronnie Anne wanted someone to talk to today and I blew her off."

Leni pressed her lips together and caressed his cheek. He was so thoughtful of other people. It was, like, his best quality. But it was also kind of his worst, because he was so hard on himself sometimes. She told him this, and he shrugged. "I just feel bad." He looked at her and smiled. "But you make me feel better."

"Awww," Leni said, her heart swelling with love. "You make me feel better too." She hugged him tight. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I was going to make us a snack before I fell asleep."

Lincoln shrugged. "I could eat."

"Well, come on," Leni giggled, taking him by the hand. "Let's go."

In the kitchen, Lynn was leaning against the counter and munching on a sports bar. Lucy was sitting at the table and writing in a school workbook. Luna was bent over a book of her own, her hands folded in front of her as if she were praying. She sighed and turned the page. Luan was browsing her phone.

"Hey, guys," Lynn said, spraying bits of granola.

"Hey," Lincoln said. "We're hungry."

"Have a sports bar," Lynn said, shoving the last little bit into her mouth and balling up the wrapper. "They help with the after school energy crash."

Leni crossed to the fridge, opened it, and bent down to scan the shelves. "What about a sandwich?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Sure," Lincoln said. He went to the breadbox, opened it, and took out a loaf. Then he went to the cabinet and grabbed two plates while Leni sat an armful of stuff on the counter: Ham, turkey, a pack of shredded lettuce, a tomato, American cheese, mayonnaise. "Geez," Lynn said, "you gonna eat all that?"

"Maybe," Leni chirped. While she cut the tomato, Lincoln smeared mayo on slices of bread and sat them on the plates. They worked side-by-side. Luan watched them with that same dull ache in her chest. They were like a newlywed couple, somehow imbuing love and joy into a mundane domestic task. She sighed and looked down to her phone. A picture of her stared back. Below was a profile

 _My name's Luan Loud and I love humor. I guess you could say I'm very punny. I hope to be a comedian one day and maybe have my own late night talk show. I'm looking for a great guy who loves to laugh and have a good time..._

She had to lie about her age to register an account. Apparently kids here age didn't "need" to join a dating website. Well... _she_ did, because she couldn't talk to boys face-to-face. At least not at first. She imagined that once she got to know someone it would be easier.

What kind of guys would she meet? She had it set so that she could only see guys in the 18-20 range and only they could see her. Six years wasn't such a big age difference, even though she thought some of them might think otherwise. If she could just meet _one_ special person to hold her and make her smile...just one person, one person who would love her for her and not for what she looked like, someone she could share puns and jokes and humorous observations with...she sighed. Just one, and she would be the happiest girl in the world.

* * *

Ronnie Anne Santiago sat alone on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest and an afghan in her lap. It was Friday evening, the lights were off, and the walls throbbed with the soft blue glow of the TV. Ronnie had been watching it for over an hour without registering what was happening. Some sitcom from back in the day. She didn't care. Her mind was preoccupied anyway.

Somewhere out there in the blustery night, Lincoln's little girlfriend was patting herself on the back for stealing him away, a smug little smile on her face and a cold glint in her eyes. _He's mine now, Ronnie Anne...all mine..._

Did she even care about Lincoln? Probably not. To her, he was just a trophy. _Look what_ I _have!_ She didn't appreciate him the way Ronnie did. Oh, there was a time when even she didn't appreciate Lincoln, but now, after this, she did. She appreciated everything that he was and strove to be. And when she took him back, she would show him.

But how would she get him away from that horrible bitch? He was deep under her spell; he thought she _actually_ loved him.

She wracked her brain, but the only thing she could come up with was this: She would have to be forward with how she felt. She couldn't beat around the bush anymore: She had to bear her heart and soul to him. She had to take his hand in hers, look into his eyes, and tell him exactly what was in her heart.

 _Lincoln...I love you._

She shuddered. It was so...mushy. She didn't _do_ mushy. It made her uncomfortable. But isn't that what led to this mess in the first place, her inability to open her heart? If she just sucked it up two months ago, she would be with Lincoln right now, holding his hand and...playing video games...or studying...it really didn't matter, he would be close to her and she would be happy and she wouldn't be sitting alone here while someone else loved him because they could do mushy and she couldn't.

God, what if he rejected her? What if...?

The light snapped on, blinding her.

"Surprise," Bobby said. He was standing in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, a pizza box in his hands. He was still wearing his work uniform: Black pants and a black button-up shirt with a slice of pizza over the heart. She wasn't expecting him home for hours.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Ah, they let me go early," he said, "you hungry?"

"Not really," she said, and looked back at the TV, unconsciously hugging herself.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice softening with concern.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She didn't sound fine and she knew it.

Bobby ducked into the kitchen, sat the pizza box on the table, and then came back into the living room, sitting next to her. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, and looked at her. She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't turn.

"Hey," he said. He was always there for her. So caring, so considerate. Just like Lincoln.

She broke down crying then, and Bobby took her in his arms. "Hey," he said, pressing her head to his chest and stroking her hair, "what's wrong?" His voice was tender, soothing. The sound of his heartbeat lulled her, and she drew a deep, watery breath. She told him everything, from what happened with Lincoln to how she felt about him to wanting him back. He listened as he rocked her back and forth: She felt so safe and warm there that she talked for longer than she had to because she didn't want him to let her go.

When she was done, he sighed. "I know how you feel. I've been there before and it's bad. There are other guys, though..."

"I don't want other guys," she said. "I want Lincoln."

"Okay, well...you should tell him how you feel. You guys are eleven, and...you know...relationships don't last long when you're young. He might be all gaga for her now, but in a couple months he might be free..."

Ronnie sighed. "I don't _want_ to wait that long. I want him _now_."

Bobby hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "How about we have some pizza instead? I'm starving."

"Okay," she sighed.

"Hey?"

"What?"

"Can I have a smile first?"

"No," she said, the corners of her lips turning up against her will. She turned away and started to get up, but he wrapped his arms around her hips and yanked her off her feet. "Hey!" she cried.

"That wasn't good enough," he cried, digging his fingers into her soft stomach. She kicked. "Stop!" she screamed between giggles, "I'm smiling! Stop!"

He let her go, and she jumped to her feet. "You're a jerk," she said around a grin.

"But I made you feel better, didn't I?"

Ronnie Anne opened her mouth. "Yeah," she admitted, "you kind of did."

Bobby smiled. "Great. Let's eat."

* * *

Lincoln's eyes were starting to cross. He sighed and buried his face in his science book; his skull was so full of the stuff it felt like it was going to crack open and spill it all back out if he tried to cram anymore in.

"You okay, Lincy?" Leni asked.

They were lying on their stomachs on Lincoln's bed, Lincoln's legs splayed straight out and Leni's bent at the knees; as she read, she hummed and kicked her feet, her head swaying from side-to-side. They had been there for over an hour, and even though he knew he had to haul ass and cram for this test, he could help but steal glances at her. She was beautiful, from her shimmering blonde hair to her painted toenails, and whenever her big brown eyes fell upon him, his chest tightened.

"I'm just sick of science," he said.

"I _know_ ," she said, "I'm so sick of math I could _totes_ scream."

Before coming into Lincoln's room to study with him, Leni grabbed her math book and a magazine in case she got bored. She couldn't find any of hers (where did I put them?), so she snatched one off of Lori's bed. _Cosmopolitan_. She knew it, but she didn't really read it. When her brain started to feel like it was being steeped in mathy water, she switched to reading the magazine.

"I gotta read more, though," Lincoln said miserably, and propped himself up on his elbows. "You should really go back to your book, too."

"I know," Leni said. "I will in a minute."

On the page was a picture of a smiling man and woman. The title was 25 THINGS TO DRIVE YOUR MAN WILD. Wild _how?_ Lincoln was her man and she wanted to drive him wild. Maybe it had tips on the best lipstick to wear and stuff. She started reading, and in a moment, her mouth dropped open and her cheeks turned red. It was...sex stuff!

 _All men love sex, so getting him to come back for more shouldn't be hard. Here are twenty-five tips to make sure he not only wants it, but_ begs.

The first tip involved 'going down' on him. "Oh, my God," she breathed, her heart starting to pound. She glanced up at Lincoln, and he was watching her, so she turned away as quickly as she could.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she blurted. "Nothing."

Even though it made her _really_ uncomfortable, Leni read the entire article. By the end, she could hardly breathe. She _kind_ of knew about sex. There was a special class when she was in middle school, and she'd seen movies, but she never really _thought_ about it. It was...it was kind of embarrassing.

Did Lincoln want sex?

The thought made her blush deepen. Would...would he be mad at her if she wasn't ready? She stole a sidelong glance at him. His brow was furrowed in concentration as his eyes flicked across the page. Sex was, like, such a big thing. It was also _reaaaally_ serious business. She didn't know much about it, but she _did_ know you only did it with someone you really loved only when you were ready to, like, become _one_ with them. She loved Lincoln and definitely wanted to be one with him, but when she thought of letting him see her most private parts, her stomach felt all strange and fluttery.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. She closed the magazine and got her math book.

She tried to lose herself in it, but her mind kept turning back to Lincoln and sex. He didn't _act_ like he was upset, and he was Lincy...he was understanding. She didn't want him to feel hurt, though. Like, if he asked and she wasn't ready, he might think there was something wrong with _him_ when it was _her_. She couldn't handle seeing hurt in his big, beautiful eyes. If he asked, she would say yes, but she hoped that he wouldn't.

She needed time before...that.


	6. Something

Saturday, March 1st, dawned clear and sunny. By mid-morning, temperatures hovered in the low forties and winds were light. Lincoln Loud woke later than usual, rising at half past eight. It was well-known in the Loud house that Saturday breakfast was on the table before eight-thirty, and if you missed it, well, that was your fault. Lincoln didn't particularly care if he missed breakfast: He'd been looking forward to today's date with Leni since she brought it up last week. They'd only been on one date before, and Lincoln enjoyed it immensely: They saw a movie, had dinner in a little Italian restaurant (a _candle_ lit dinner...it was pretty romantic), and walked home through downtown Royal Woods as the sunset painted the sky soft pink and purple. It was a perfect day.

In the bathroom, he showered, enjoying the way the hot water warmed his cold skin. Because of heating costs, Mom and Dad kept the house at a steady 62. Sometimes, Lincoln was _certain_ he could almost see his breath.

When he was done, he wrapped his towel around his waist and then went to his room. Luan appeared at the top of the stairs before he could slip in, and her eyes narrowed. "Nice dress, Linc."

"It's not a dress and you know it," he deflected with a little half-smile.

She shrugged. "I guess Leni's already started the transformation...pretty soon you'll be wearing guyliner and designer jeans."

"You're funny," Lincoln said and went into his room. He locked the door, ripped his towel off and, naked, rummaged through his drawers for something to wear. He wanted to look nice, but he didn't want to look like he was going on a date. After all, it was just a walk in the park (and lunch) with his sister. Nothing more, Mom and Dad.

Not for the first time, Lincoln wondered how his parents would react if they found out about him and Leni. He'd imagined everything from happiness and indifference to rage and disgust. He couldn't honestly say _how_ they would take it, and he didn't intend to find out.

He finally settled for a pair of jeans and an orange polo shirt. Downstairs, Lori was doing the breakfast dishes while Leni wiped down the table with a Clorox wipe. Lucy was in the living room dusting while Lana was emptying Cliff's litterbox. Right. He had to take out the trash. He total forgot.

"Morning, Lincy!" Leni said happily.

"Morning," he said.

"You missed breakfast," Leni said seriously. "Are you hungry?"

"No," he said, crossing the kitchen. "I just wanna take the trash out so we can go. When you're done, of course."

Leni smiled brightly. "Okay. I just need to vacuum the living room."

While she did that, Lincoln took the kitchen trash out, then went back inside and caught the trash in the bathroom and in the laundry room. The one good thing about trash patrol, as he liked to call it, was the workout his arms got. Once upon a time they looked like frail, uncooked pasta noodles. Now they looked like...well, slightly bigger pasta noodles. If this kept up, he might be able to lift a jug of milk by the time he was in high school.

Done, he plopped down onto the couch in-between Luna and Luan while Leni guided the vacuum across the carpet. When she got close, they put their feet up on the coffee table and she bent slightly to vacuum under them. "Thank you!" she said as she glided off. "Where are you guys going?" Luan asked, slapping Lincoln's chest with the back of her hand.

"To the park," he said. "Then somewhere for lunch."

"That's nice," Luan said, and looked sad for a moment. Before Lincoln could say anything, she brightened. "Hey, did you hear about the guy who sent ten puns to his local newspaper's pun contest?"

"No," Lincoln said, playing along. "What about him?"

"He was hoping at least one would win, but unfortunately, no pun in ten did."

Lincoln laughed. "Okay, that was good."

"Thanks!"

Leni was done now, kneeling next to the vacuum and winding the cord up. "Well, if you ladies will excuse me..."

"Have fun, bro," Luna said.

Luan watched him go. He helped Leni get the vacuum into the closet off the living room, then held the front door for her while she shrugged into her coat. "Thank you, Lincy," she said, stooping down and kissing him on the tip of his nose. "You're such a gentleman." Luan sighed and looked down at her hands. She deleted her dating profile this morning. When she woke up and checked it, her heart bursting with hope, she saw that she had fifteen private messages. Fifteen! Wow! But of them, seven were pictures of...well...and the rest were either "You look too young to be on this site" or "Hey, baby, wanna hook up?" Only the latter messages weren't put so nicely. It was hopeless. She was destined to sit alone on the sidelines while her siblings found love one-by-one. What kind of cat would she have?

At least the frozen dinners for one were getting more and more appetizing by the year.

She drew a deep breath.

"You alright?" Luna asked. "You been kinda down lately."

Luan shook her head. "No, I'm fine," she lied. She got up and went upstairs. She'd look up jokes online, that always made her feel better...

* * *

Ronnie Ann Santiago woke just before dawn from a nightmare she couldn't remember. The sheets were twisted around her and soaked in sweat. Her heart raced, her lung burst. She sat up, a shaft of moonlight falling across her drawn face and casting it in an eerie glow. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them as she tried to remember the dream. It had to do with Lincoln, but beyond that, she couldn't recall, and while she didn't want to, she _had_ to. What was it?

For a while she sat, her jackrabbit heart beating a frantic tempo against her breast. Bits and pieces came back to her: Lincoln's mouth turned down in a cruel sneer, everyone pointing and laughing at her, tears streaming down her face as she collapsed to the floor in a heap. By the time cold, amber sunlight began to creep into the room, she remembered all of it, every terrible second: She was trying to get Lincoln back, and for some reason she chose to profess her love for him in the cafeteria during lunch, when it was packed with kids. Her heart and soul was laid bare for all to see. "I don't want you," Lincoln said. "Go away."

His words and his hateful tone decimated her, but the mocking laughter of a thousand faces heightened her grief. She did not share her emotions easily. She did not want them to be seen. In this dream, _everyone_ saw them, and how they laughed...she was certain she even saw her own brother slapping his knee. She grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly to her chest. When she felt the urge to cry, she buried her face into it. She had to tell him how she felt, even if it killed her.

But could she do it? She hung her head in misery, because she didn't know. She didn't know if she could rip her heart open and let Lincoln see her innermost self, the scared, lonely little girl hiding beneath the aggression, the girl who secretly wanted the kind of romance she openly mocked...she would rather take her clothes off for him, because physical nakedness is one thing...but spiritual nakedness is another.

But she _had_ to do it. She couldn't just let that bitch have him. He loved her first, and she loved him first. She was his and he was _hers_.

At breakfast, she absently ate and plotted. She smiled when Bobby mussed her hair, talked happily about her school life when her mother asked...outside she was bright and pretty and at ease, but inside she was cold and calculating. Some way, somehow, she was going to get Lincoln Loud back, even if it killed someone.

* * *

Jokes always made Luan feel better. Sitting in the middle of her bed, her laptop balanced precariously on her knobby knees, she searched the World Wide Web for laughs, snickers, chuckles, and even snorts. In her current mood, she just needed _something_.

Being a dedicated student of the humorous arts, she knew the places to look, and within fifteen minutes the desperation had been shoved to the back of her mind. She opened a Word document and copy/pasted her favorite jokes; she did this only with the best, the ones that she planned to work into either her routine or her daily life. There were close to a thousand jokes in that file, everything from one-liners to long, epic story-jokes that not even Lincoln, who always _humored_ her, would sit through. It was these jokes, the _real_ side-splitters, that inspired her to keep going. When she read a particularly good one, her chest would flood with a mixture of admiration, envy, and downright jealousy, and she would resolve to write one _even_ better. She was keenly aware that she wasn't the best, but it's a process. You don't just drop out of the womb with a bowtie and a truckload of zingers, it takes years of practice.

Luan was eight when she knew she wanted to be a comedian. Up until then, she was nothing, just another kid in a class full of kids, a girl in a house full of girls (and one boy). She blended in, and was so lost even she couldn't pick herself out of a crowd. Then she saw a stand-up special on Comedy Central, and not only was it hysterical, but the comedian was so _big_. He stood on a stage in front of a crowd, a spotlight falling on him from the rafters, and whenever he spoke, the audience died. They, like Luan, hung on every word; for that half an hour, there was no one else in the world but him, the funny man everyone loved.

She genuinely loved comedy, but she couldn't lie: It was nice to stand out...to be noticed. When you have such a large family, attention wasn't easy to come by.

Presently, she looked up from the screen, her lips pursed. Is that why she wanted a boyfriend so badly? For attention? What kind of awful bitch _was_ she?

She didn't think that was it, though. He didn't have to pay attention to her, she would pay attention to _him_. It wasn't about what she wanted to take, but about what she wanted to _give_. She had so much love and affection in her heart; all she wanted was a special someone to pour it all out on. She wanted what Leni had, and what Lincoln had: Someone to hold and cherish, a beautiful romance with someone who loved Luan Loud, despite her overbite and her often lame jokes. Attention be damned. She didn't need him looking at her night and day, just knowing that he was out there, silently loving her as she silently loved him, was enough.

Shaking her head, she opened another Word document and jotted down a few jokes she'd thought up since yesterday evening. They were _hilarious_ , at least she thought they were. But she needed a second opinion.

Closing her laptop, she went out to get it.

In the living room, Luna was still sitting on the couch, her booted feet kicked up onto the coffee table. She was staring intently at the television set, where an eighties metal video played, the VH1 Classic logo in the bottom right corner. "Hey, Lune," she said, "wanna hear some jokes?"

"Yeah, in a minute," Luna replied, waving her hand. "Just...chill."

"Okay," Luan said, and went into the kitchen. Lucy, Lana, and Lola were sitting at the table, each one coloring a picture. Luan walked over and looked at each. Lana's was of a construction site, replete with dump truck, backhoe, and herself as foreman, holding a set of blue prints and yelling at a cringing underling. Lola's was of a fashion show: She stood on the edge of a catwalk, her hooked hands thrown into the air and an evil smile on her face. Lucy's was – surprise – of a vampire, his face blue and rotting and his eyes glowing yellow.

"Hey, guys, wanna hear a joke?"

"Uh, no," Lola said without looking up. "We're busy."

"Fix this mess or you're fired!" Lana yelled at her drawing. "I am sick of you messing up my jobsites! You're worse than the 3 Stooges!"

"Later," Lucy said. "Promise."

Luan's shoulders sagged. "Okay," she said sadly. She went back into the living room just as Lori came down the stairs. She brightened. "Hey, Lori...?"

"Can't, busy," Lori said, brushing past her. "Later."

Luan nodded, suddenly so sad she could cry. She didn't know why; this wasn't exactly the first time her sisters were too busy to listen to her jokes. Today, though...she didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore. Maybe she'd just go upstairs and take a nap. Then, later, she'd snag Lincoln. _He_ always made time for her. It was easy to see why Leni would fall in love with him, but Leni...well...maybe Leni could look past the fact that he was her brother, but Luan could not. She was just starting up the stairs when a knock came at the door, halting her. She glanced at Luna, who was banging her head to an AC/DC video.

The knock came again.

Luan sighed. Fine. She'd get it. She turned, rolled her eyes, and went to the door. Please hurry so I can go be depressed.

She opened it, and Clyde McBride was there, a goofy smile on his face. "Hey, Luan!" he chirped before she even had a chance to fully register his presence. "Is Lincoln here?"

She blinked. "Uh, no. He's...out."

"Oh," Clyde said, his face falling. Luan felt bad for him. _I know how you feel. No one has time for me either._ "Well, I guess I'll go."

He started to turn, but Luan stopped him. Clyde liked her jokes! If her sisters couldn't be bothered to listen to them, she'd just tell them to him. "Hey, wait..." He stopped and looked at her. For some reason, she suddenly felt very nervous. She rubbed the back of her neck, her hand brushing the tip of her ponytail. "I, uh...I kind of need someone to listen to some new jokes and everyone here's too busy...you wanna hear them?"

For a moment he simply looked at her, and her heart sped up. Then he shrugged. "Sure, why not?"


	7. Saturday in the Park

The day was warmer than Lincoln anticipated. The forecast said it would be in the low-to-mid forties, but it had to be at least fifty, and after the deep freeze of the past winter, fifty was _hot_. They'd been at the park for less than fifteen minutes when he took his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. His free hand was entwined with Leni's, and he unconsciously stroked her dainty knuckles with his fingertips. A gust of warmish wind swept over them, and gold-colored strands flipped and twirled. She giggled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sometimes long hair is _totes_ annoying," she said. "I think Luna has the right idea."

"But I like your hair," Lincoln said. "It's soft and pretty."

"Aww," she glanced at him. "Thank you. Your hair is pretty too." She brought her free hand around and flipped his cowlick. He laughed and drew away. "Hey!"

"But it's _so_ cute," she said. "You look like Alfalfa."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, rolling his eyes in an attempt to see the offending tuft of hair, "I don't really like it, but I can't get it to stay down."

Leni flicked it again. "But I don't _want_ it to stay down. It's, like, part of your Lincy look."

He laughed. "Lincy look?"

She nodded. "Umhm. Lincy look. It's the most _adorable_ look there is."

A faint blush touched his cheeks. "I like the Leni look myself."

"Well, I'll make you a deal. I won't change the Leni look if you won't change the Lincy look. Okay?"

Lincoln shrugged. "Alright." If she liked the way he looked (which she must, since she told him as often as she possibly could), then so did he. Her opinion was the only one that mattered to him.

Being a warm (for March in Michigan) Saturday, the park was full of people enjoying the weather. The concrete walk Lincoln and Leni followed passed a baseball diamond, a basketball court, a playground, and a picnic area dotted with tables and grills like cemetery headstones. Kids ran and screamed like mindless lunatics, a softball game was in progress (Lincoln squinted as he passed, wondering if Lynn was involved), and at least a dozen families were cooking out: The good smells of BBQ chicken, hamburgers, and steak wafted to his nose, and his stomach growled. He kind of wished he'd eaten breakfast.

For a time, neither of them spoke, the silence between them comfortable. The walkway did a rough oval around the park, curving wide around a duck pond. If Lincoln's memory served, it was a mile and a half around. They walked it twice, simply enjoying each other's company. At one point, Lincoln looked up at his lover, and his brow furrowed at the troubled expression on her face.

"You alright?" he asked.

She didn't respond for a moment, the expression remaining, then she shook her head and looked at him, her big, bright eyes seasoned with a hint of...apprehension?

"Are you happy with me, Lincoln?" she asked flatly.

"Of course I am!" he said, and squeezed her hand tighter. "I've never been happier in my whole life."

She smiled warmly. "You love me?"

"More than anything." He stopped and so did she. "Leni," he said, looking into her eyes. "You mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to _me,_ Lincoln," she said seriously. She bent down, and he leaned up, meeting her lips with his. Her tongue crept coyly into his mouth, and he touched it with his, his heart crashing in his ears and his knees going weak. She laid her trembling hand on the side of his face, and he ran his fingers down the side of her soft, velvety throat. Their tongues stroked and caressed, Lincoln shivering as he tasted every contour of her mouth. When Leni pulled away, her eyes were big and brimming with love. She took both of his hands in hers and sighed happily. "I love you, Lincoln."

"I love you too," Lincoln said. When they began to walk again, he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

Leni closed her eyes and snuggled as close as she could. Since reading the sex article last night, she had given the matter much thought. Lincy was too young for that, and so was she. One day, when they would older, they could do it, but for right now, they would just enjoy each other. There would be plenty of opportunity for _that_ in the future. No need to rush it. Besides, now that she knew Lincoln was happy and it wasn't a pressing issue, she was able to look at it without fear and self-consciousness, and she realized what a wholesome and beautiful thing it really was. It was so intensely intimate, like, you were doing something so special with someone and you did it only with them because you loved them and wanted to be close to them, and there was no closer you could be with them than to do _that_ and let them see you in a way that no one else ever would. She looked forward to becoming that close with Lincoln. They bodies and spirits would be, like, intertwined forever, and that thought made her happy, because she loved Lincoln with everything she had and she never wanted to let him go. He was the only person she ever wanted to be that close with...even if they didn't work out (a thought that made her sad). No man would ever mean as much to her as Lincoln, and she absolutely could not imagine letting any other man have her.

For his part, Lincoln thought only of this moment, and how happy he was to have Leni. To him, sex was still a mystery, and though he knew enough about it, he was still just on the cusp of puberty, and the desire, while present in some form, was muted, indistinct. One day it might become important to him, but in the here and now, all that mattered was having Leni with him and giving her his love, and receiving the gift of her love.

Leaning on one another, they walked the loop three more times, completely oblivious to the world around them, to the cold, hateful eyes that watched from the brush...

* * *

 _He's probably not even there._

Ronnie Anne Santiago pedaled her bike through the mid-morning streets of Royal Woods, a hard, determined look on her face. She swerved to avoid a little boy bouncing a red ball on the sidewalk, and threw a withering glance over her shoulder. Dumb bastard. She should have hit him.

 _He's probably out with his little girlfriend_.

This early? It was barely ten 'o'clock when she left the house fifteen minutes ago. Didn't dates usually happen at night? They did in the movies. You never saw a guy and a girl meeting up for breakfast or mimosas, it was always dinner and a movie or something, and never earlier than at least an hour or two past the normal dinner hour, which, in the Santiago house, had always been six or seven at the latest. She had never been on a date herself. Boys had asked her in the past, but she always turned them down because she didn't have time to be hurt and jerked around like her father hurt and jerked her mother around. There were times she wanted to say yes, but then she would think back to her father cheating, and beating her mother, and drinking, and lying, and stealing, and she would lash out at them because _you're not doing that to me, I refuse!_ Her mother put up with it for _so_ long before she finally took her and Bobby and left. Why, Ronnie didn't know. _How,_ Ronnie didn't know. She loved her mother, but when she was lying in bed at night, her defenses down, she realized how much respect she'd lost for her. Sitting there while he did that to her...she looked so weak, stupid, and pathetic, and while Ronnie knew she wasn't _really_ those things, appearances are everything, because if you let people think you're like that, they'll _treat_ you like that, just like if you let people think you're a big, scary biker they'll _treat_ you like a big scary biker. _Oh, boo-hoo, everyone things I'm a bad guy._ You have neck tattoos and so many muscles you look like you could lift a car and not break a sweat, shut the fuck up. She presented herself as a hardcore roughneck and she _liked_ that people treated her as such, because they didn't mess with her.

No dates, because she would _never_ open herself up to someone. When you open yourself up, you open yourself up to grief and misery, just the way her mother opened herself up to grief and misery from her father. Even so, she always kind of figured she would meet someone one day who was different, and she did.

Lincoln Loud.

Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away. She met him and she let him slip through her fingers...she let some fucking cunt drop in and yank him away. The only boy who was perfect and beautiful besides Bobby...and she let him go because she was too much of a fucking pussy to make her move.

Well, that was then, and this was now. She was scared shitless, she couldn't lie, but she heard a quote about bravery once that said something like: Bravery is being afraid and going ahead anyway. Well, she was brave. She wasn't weak or cowardly like her mother or anyone else. She was a hard, steely bitch, and she would go ahead even though she was so terrified her knees knocked together. She would take Lincoln's hand, look into his eyes, and tell him, _Lincoln...I'm in love with you...I've always been in love with you...I want to be your girlfriend and I don't care who knows. I don't care who laughs, I don't care what anyone says. I want to write you love letters and hold your hand and call you stupid pet names because I love you_ that _goddamn much._

When he saw the earnestness in her eyes, he was _sure_ to dump that bimbo he was with.

Presently, she reached the Loud house and left the sidewalk, the frame of her bike shaking as the tires crossed the uneven lawn. She reached the bottom of the porch, hopped off, and climbed the stairs to the door. Her stomach was a pit of swirling nerves and her heart throbbed sickly. Moment of truth, she told herself as she took a deep breath. Your entire heart, your entire soul, your happiness and your future, rests on what happens here today. No pressure.

She knocked.

Get down on your knees if you have to. Beg him. Go down on him if that's what it takes. Sink your claws into him and drag him away from that hateful whore.

No one answered the door.

She knew they were here. The van was in the driveway. She knocked again, louder this time.

 _Come on, come on._

The door opened, and Luna Loud appeared. She was wearing a purple skirt and a purple cut-off tank top, the neckline of which exposed her prominent collarbone. "Hey, what's up?" she asked, and glanced distractedly over her shoulder.

Ronnie craned to see around the girl, hoping to see Lincoln's face. She did not. "Is Lincoln here?"

"Nah, sorry," Luna said, looking over her shoulder at the TV again. "He's...I dunno, he's at the park or something."

"Oh," Ronnie said, her spirits falling a little. "Well...if you see him, tell him I need to talk to him."

"Alright."

The park, huh? It was a nice day for it. She imagined holding hands with him as they gazed out at the duck pond, and her heart twinged. She turned away as Luna shut the door. A walk in the park sounded really romantic. She mounted her bike and sped in that direction, her head filled with thoughts of Lincoln and her chest filled with anxiety.

When she reached the park fifteen minutes later, her legs sore and her breath coming in short, hot gasps, she parked her bike in a bike rack and looked around for Lincoln, but didn't see him. Everyone and his brother was at the park today, flying kites, throwing Frisbees, cooking out, playing, being stupid. She shoved her hands into the oversized pockets of her hoodie and went off in search of her man. Some kid bumped into her as he backed up, his hands up and his buddy cocking a football fifty feet away. Flashing, Ronnie shoved him out of the way.

She picked up the walkway and started toward the duck pond. When you find him, just kiss him. Grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him into the biggest, wettest smooch ever. Use lots of tongue. Scratch your nails through his hair. Press your body to his. Show him you mean business. If he needs more persuading, take him into the woods, get down on your knees...

Behind her, Lincoln's voice rose, and she froze, her heart a cold lump in her throat.

" _You mean everything to me."_

She spun around, but she was past the curve and couldn't see him.

"You mean everything to _me,_ Lincoln," a girl's voice said, and Ronnie's fists clenched. He was with _her_. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her teeth grinded.

" _I love you, Lincoln."_

" _I love you, too."_

Gravel crunched underfoot. They were coming!

Panicking, Ronnie threw herself into the nearest bush, thrones ripping at her face. She turned, and through ropey, interlaced vegetation, she saw Lincoln. He was walking with a tall girl whose face Ronnie couldn't see. She looked older. Much older. Balling her fists so tightly that her knuckles went white, she crept forward and craned her neck to see. They were past her now. From the back it looked like...

The girl turned and smiled lovingly down at the boy whose hand she held. Ronnie gasped and shrank back. It _was_.

Leni.

Lincoln's sister.

His own fucking sister.

She leaned forward on aching knees and watched as they made their way around the edge of the pond and started along the opposite bank. They both looked happy. _So_ happy.

Hatred filled Ronnie's heart.

So it was Leni. The stupid, stinking bitch who _knew_ how Ronnie felt about her brother.

 _She hates me so much she stole her own brother away from me so I wouldn't have him..._

It all made sense now. She didn't want Lincoln, she just didn't want her to have him. What kind of sick, twisted _bitch?_

This complicated matters greatly, because how could she compete when his girlfriend literally _lived_ with him, and he saw her every second of every day?

 _Try harder...be better..._

Oh, she _would_. Leni might be pretty and older, but she didn't love Lincoln the way Ronnie did. And when Lincoln _saw_ the true love in her eyes, he would realize that.

With blood trickling down her face and her teeth gritting painfully, Ronnie Anne Santiago watched the love of her life loving someone else. But that was okay, because soon, it would be _her_ holding his hand, maybe consoling him over Leni's unfortunate, and fatal, "accident"...

* * *

Clyde McBride sat on Luna Loud's beanbag chair and held his stomach, which ached. He'd heard the term "side splitting laughter" before, but he'd never personally experienced it until today.

"Thank you, thank you," Luan said, bending at the waist. "I'll be here until I'm eighteen...at least."

Call him a dork or a dweeb, but he'd always loved Luan's humor. Yeah, he knew some of it was pretty...silly (he was far too charitable to call it "dumb"), but, hey, that's what he liked. And half the time, it wasn't even the jokes he was laughing at, it was Luan herself; she had such a good time that you couldn't _help_ but have a good time yourself. One thing he had always liked about her, other than her humor, was her perky, upbeat attitude. He liked all of Lincoln's sister (they were all cool in their own way), but he probably liked Luan the best. She always had a smile on her face.

Luan bowed once again, her ponytail flopping over her shoulder.

"Encore!" Clyde called.

Luan cocked her head and put her hands on her hips, a tiny smile on her face. "Again? Okay! Why can't a blonde call 911? She can't find the eleven!"

Clyde doubled over.

"What do you call a seventies cookie band? OREO Speedwagon!"

That one made Clyde _almost_ piss himself, because his dads _loved_ REO Speedwagon; he was probably the only eleven-year-old in the world who knew who they were. "Stop!" he cried, waving his hand. The world was blurred with tears of laughter. "I can't take anymore! You're killing me!"

He did not see the devilish grin spreading across Luan's face. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward. "What do you call a bunch of tractors parked in front of a McDonald's on a Friday night in Alabama? Prom!"

Clyde threw himself back against the beanbag and shook with laughter. Luan felt a rush of pride. He _loved_ it. Look at him flopping his head back and forth and waving his hands, tears streaming down his cheek. He was cute.

"Really," he hitched, "I'm dying over here."

"But I have _so_ many more," she said. She didn't want this to end. She _liked_ telling him jokes.

Clyde caught his breath and sat up. "Alright," he said, and the knobby-kneed girl in the skirt brightened. He'd never noticed before what a beautiful smile she had. "Tell me more."

"Okay," she said, and put her index finger to her chin, her eyes rolling up toward the ceiling. When she did this, the hem of her skirt lifted slightly, and Clyde found his eyes drawn to her bare legs. He shook his head and looked up at her face; she was staring at him with knitted brows, and he gulped. Did she know he was looking at her? He didn't mean to!

Was it just her, or was he checking her out? A blush touched her cheek, and she smiled. A joke came to mind, but it was a little risqué. She didn't know if he would like it or not, but suddenly she wanted to tell it to him.

She opened her mouth, but realized that for some reason, her throat was dry and her heart was crashing. Clyde leaned forward expectantly, his eyes wide and bright. Luan caught herself staring into them.

"Why don't witches wear underwear?" she asked.

She waited until Clyde shrugged. "I dunno. Why?"

"To get a better grip on their broom!"

For a second his eyes were blank, then he understood, and they widened. Red touched his cheeks and he turned away with a chuckle. She swallowed hard. Maybe she shouldn't have told him that one. Stupid! He probably thought she was a weirdo, and though she didn't know why, that kind of upset her.

An awkward silence followed. She had to do something or else he'd leave, and she didn't want him to. They had a lot of fun this afternoon.

"Hey," she said, an idea occurring to her, "you wanna see something _really_ funny?"

"Sure," he said, leaning back in the beanbag. He watched as she turned away, her skirt swishing around her knees and her ponytail bobbing across the gentle slope of the back of her neck. He wondered what her neck feel like under his lips, and shook his head. Whoa, where did _that_ come from?

"It's here some...oh, here it is!" She turned, a tablet in her hand, and came over, dropping next to him in a swish of sweet smelling air. Clyde's throat constricted and he was acutely aware of her pressing against him. "You're gonna love this," she said as she tapped the screen and brought up a video. He watched the screen, but found his eyes turning to the girl beside him. Her soft jawline, the curve of her throat, her button nose, the strands of hair sticking cutely up from her hairline. He forced himself to look away. There was only one girl he had ever felt this way around, and her name was Lori.

Luan glanced at Clyde, her heart beating faster and her lips slightly parted. He _was_ checking her out! She smiled, and the blush already present on her cheeks deepened. He turned, saw her, and quickly looked down at the tablet, a cute expression of...panic?...in his eyes.

"H-Here," Luan said, touching the screen and starting the video. She swallowed. The pressure of his leg against hers made her squirm.

On the screen, a man in a bowtie stood on a stage. "This is my favorite comedian," she said. "He's the one who got me into comedy in the first place."

"You weren't _always_ into comedy?"

"No," she said, glancing quickly at him. "Why?"

Clyde shrugged. "You're just...you're so good at it, I figured you were born that way."

"I'm not all that good," she said, bringing the tablet closer.

"I-I think you are."

Luan's heart bounced against her ribs. What's happening here? Am I...? "Thanks," she forced through a tacky throat.

For a while they watched the video together, neither speaking, neither aware of what the other was feeling. At one point, Clyde leaned forward to see the screen better, and Luan stiffened. Though he wasn't looking at her, his face was inches from hers.

And she liked it.

He laughed at something onscreen and shook his head. He glanced at her. "This _is_ really funny."

Luan's heart was pounding harder now. "Yeah?" she asked huskily.

"Yeah," he replied, and looked at her again, his eyebrow cocking. "You alright?"

Before she could stop herself, she was leaning forward...tilting her head...pressing her lips against his, her heart rocketing into her brain. She slid her tongue over his bottom lip and along the inside of his cheek. For the briefest of moments, he was frozen, then he came alive and kissed her back, their tongues wrapping blissfully around each other. His hand fluttered to the back of her neck, and she shuddered delightfully as she threaded her fingers through his coarse hair. The taste of his mouth, the warmth of his hand, the pounding of his heart...it was intoxicating. She ran her hand down his cheek and sucked his bottom lip, their noses brushing. His eyes looked into hers; they were wide, shocked. She giggled against his lips, and his brow flattened. He kissed her again.

"Hey, I..."

They both started and pulled apart. Luna was standing in the doorway, her eyes big. Luan turned away as a wide smile spread across her sister's face. "I...I was just gonna grab my ax..." Luan could _hear_ the smile in her voice.

Only...Luan wasn't embarrassed the way she thought she would be. She was too over the moon for that. Luna passed by, grabbed her guitar, and came back. She cocked her head to look at Luan, whose head was still bowed. Luan looked up, unable to wipe the grin off her face. Luna was smiling. It wasn't a mocking smile, it was a happy smile, as if to say _way to go, sis_.

"You guys have fun," Luna said, and shut the door behind her.

Luan whipped her head around. "Did you like that as much as I did?"

He swallowed and nodded stiffly. "Yeah...I liked that a lot."

"Well," she said, leaning close, "why don't we pick up where we left off?"

Clyde smiled. "You read my mind."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He hugged her, and she melted into him.

She finally found someone to hold and love and kiss.

And he was right in front of her this whole time.


	8. A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Monday morning dawned dark and rainy. Ronnie Ann Santiago had been awake most of the night, sitting up in bed and listening to the hiss of rain on the roof. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lincoln and Leni holding hands and smiling at each other, and her stomach turned. Today was the today she would start taking Lincoln away from that shank. Oh, it wouldn't be easy, and it would take longer than she thought, but that was okay, she knew what Lincoln needed and she was going to give it to him. She was going to give him so much love and affection and mushy-gushy crap he would choke – literally choke. She would bat her eyelashes, smile, twirl her finger in her hair, call him cute names...let him know she loved him, wear him down, get him weak...then strike. By then he would be so full of her love that he would be able to do little else but kiss her and love her too.

When her alarm went off, she slapped it and got up, dressing in yesterday's clothes in a daze, her thoughts faraway. Her hoodie was rumpled and her pants were wrinkled, but she didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared if she did. In the bathroom, she studied her face in the mirror over the sink. Her jaw was set, her eyes were dark. She breathed through flaring nostrils like an angry bull. Her skin was pale. Her hair, usually so shiny, was lusterless and lank. Without looking away from her reflection, she slipped a scrunchie off of her wrist and pulled her hair back from her forehead. She tried to soften her brow, but it was set in a downward point, making her look angrier than she actually felt. Oh, she was mad as hell, but the sadness, the loss, was greater, sharper, like the cold edge of a knife. Her prospects were good, though, because she would fight hard, and she wouldn't give up. Leni was stupid. She wouldn't know what was happening until Lincoln was in _her_ arms. Even if she _could_ pull her head out of her ass long enough to see it coming, what could she do?

Ronnie gripped the edges of the sink and leaned closer to the mirror. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. She drew some water from the faucet and rubbed her tired orbs. She drew back, forced a smile, and blew her reflection a kiss. An idea struck her, and she opened the medicine cabinet, taking out a tube of pink lip-gloss and a little bottle of eyeliner, both Christmas gifts from an aunt who didn't get it: Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I like girly shit. She put on the lip-gloss and applied the eyeliner with the little brush, her eye twitching. When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror.

She was beautiful.

Done, she went into the kitchen, where her mother was finishing a cup of coffee while hurriedly getting Ronnie's and Bobby's lunches together. If she didn't hurry, she'd be late.

"Good morning, Roberta," she said without looking up.

"Morning, Mom," Ronnie said, sitting at the table. Her mother turned, and blinked.

"You're wearing make-up today."

Ronnie shrugged. "Why not?"

"You look very pretty," she replied, then went back to what she was doing. "Are you almost ready? I'm driving you to school."

Oh, I'm ready alright. Out loud: "Yeah."

"Me too!" Bobby said, coming in from the hall. He gave Ronnie a nugie and dropped into a chair across from her. When he saw her make-up, his brows lifted. " _That's_ new."

Ronnie shrugged.

"You turning into a girly-girl on us?"

Ronnie inwardly flinched, because that's kind of exactly what she was doing. "Not on your life," she replied and flashed what she hoped was a menacing grin.

"You better not," he said, draping his arm over the back of his chair, "I need my little sis to be tough and beat up all my bullies."

Ronnie chuckled. "You _deserve_ to be bullied though."

Bobby laughed. "Yeah? Tell me that the next time you want free pizza."

"Alright," Mom said, "come on. We have to hurry."

Outside, rain drove from the sky. Holding her books over her head, Ronnie darted to the car and climbed into the back. It was cold today.

"I hope it's not still raining later," Mom worried as she backed into the street. "I can't leave work."

"Don't worry about it," Bobby said from the passenger seat, "I got some money, I'll get us a cab if I have to." He glanced over his shoulder. "I won't let my sweet little sis get wet. She might melt."

Ronnie grinned and flipped him off.

He flipped her off too.

She leaned forward and punched him in the shoulder. "Ah, damn!" he hissed.

"Roberto!" Mom yelled.

"I think she just shot me," he said, rubbing his wound. Ronnie giggled. He turned his shoulder to their mother. "Am I bleeding?"

Mom shook her head, but she was smiling. "No, you're not bleeding."

"That thing's a dangerous weapon, you know," Bobby said over his shoulder. "Watch where you aim it."

"Watch your smart mouth," she shot back.

He laughed. "I'd say something smart but I'm afraid you'll hit me again."

Ronnie giggled. "Fear and commonsense."

They pulled into the middle school and came up behind a bus. Kids rushed from it to the overhang before the front doors.

"Have a good day, honey," Mom said. Ronnie leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"I will," she said.

She punched Bobby in the shoulder and hurried out into the rain before he could do anything. She glanced back at the last minute and stuck her tongue out. He waved.

Inside, the tile floor was slick and smeared with mud. She had ten minutes before the bell rang. Ten minutes to put the moves on Lincoln Loud.

In the cafeteria, she looked around, scanning a thousand dull, stupid faces before spotting Lincoln and Clyde at a table by the double doors to the gym. A predatory smile crossed her face, and she walked over, shoving some slut with green hair out of the way.

"Hey!" the girl cried, stumbling.

"Fuck you, bitch," Ronnie growled. Lincoln glanced up as she approached, and she smiled at him. She sat in the seat next to him and crossed her arms on the table before her. "Hey, Lincoln," she said and batted her eyelashes.

He blinked. "H-Hey."

"Like I was saying," Clyde said, but Ronnie held a hand up, and he shut his mouth.

"How was your weekend?" She dipped her head and threaded her fingers through her hair.

With a furrowed brow, Lincoln nodded. "It was good. How was yours?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "Alright. Kind of boring, though. I miss hanging with you." She reached out and touched his arm, her heart crashing at that slight contact. "Where you been?"

He sighed. "Just...you know, busy."

"With your girl?"

For some reason he couldn't meet her eyes as he nodded. Did he feel guilty? That was good. That meant he would be easy to win back.

"I get it," she said, "time flies when you're with someone you love." She stopped, her throat constricting. Was she brave enough to say...? "Sometimes it's hard to believe we've known each other for almost a year."

He didn't seem to understand what she meant. "Just...leave some time for me, okay?" she asked. She laid her hand on his knee. "I _really_ miss you."

With that, she got up and left Lincoln agape. It wasn't until she was half way to her locker that she realized just how forward she had been, and her stomach cramped. Her knees turned to jelly and she almost fell.

She had her first class of the day with him. Sitting in the back row and looking at him, her stomach knotted and her palms started to sweat. She needed to play it cool, but every moment she wasn't actively pursuing him was another moment he was thinking of that slut Leni. She whipped out a piece of paper, jotted a note, and folded it. She handed it to the kid next to her and nodded to Lincoln. Two kids later, she watched him take it and open it up, her heart staggering. He bent over, wrote a reply, and handed it back. When it got to her, she unfolded it with trembling fingers.

 _What are you doing today? You wanna go to the arcade?_

Lincoln replied:

 _Sure. Meet you there after school?_

She looked up, and he was watching her. Smiling, she nodded.

For the rest of the day, she walked on clouds. She had a date with Lincoln Loud.

The most perfect boy _ever_.

* * *

Luan Loud leaned against a sign reading BUS LANE ONLY and clutched her books to her chest. It had stopped raining around lunch, but the day was still damp and overcast, each gust of wind making her shiver. She scuffed her foot across the wet pavement and looked once more at her phone. It was 2:33. In two minutes the bell would ring and her Clyde would come to her. She smiled as she thought back to Saturday afternoon, to the way they kissed until they were lightheaded, then cuddled on the beanbag for...God...she didn't know, it could have been hours or it could have been minutes. When they were together, time had no meaning; they existed outside it all. On Sunday, he came over and they spent the entire day together, and Luan was so happy she felt like her heart would burst. They told jokes, they kissed, they went to the park and held hands (proudly showing off my great guy, don't mind me!), kissed, walked around town, kissed some more, went to the arcade, kissed, ate pizza, and...what else? Oh, yeah, kissed. They kissed _a lot_. Luan liked kissing. The feeling of his lips against hers, the taste of his breath in her mouth, the closeness, the intimacy...it was _really_ addicting. If she could, she would hold Clyde's hand and kiss him all day long.

Presently, the bell rang, and Luan perked up. The doors flew open, and a stream of kids came pouring out. She scanned the passing faces, looking for Clyde. She saw Ronnie Anne, her hands in her pockets and a ghost of a smile on her face, then, a minute or two later, she saw Lincoln. Their eyes locked, and he shot her a grin. She and Clyde told him Sunday afternoon. It was funny. Lincoln was the one who answered the door when Clyde knocked. Luan was sitting on the couch, impatiently waiting. Somehow, Lincoln got to the door before her.

 _Hey, Clyde, what's up?_

 _Not much, man._ He looked at her around Lincoln and smiled.

 _So...you wanna hang or something?_

 _Actually, I'm here for Luan._

That's when Luan all but shoved her brother out of the way. _Hey, Clyde_ , she smiled. She glanced at Lincoln, and his brows were raised quizzically, a tiny smile on his lips.

The memory fell away when she saw Clyde come through the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. She sucked in her lips to keep from smiling _too_ goofy, and waved at him. He saw her, and a dreamy look crept into his eyes. He waved back.

"Hey," she smiled when he walked up. She leaned in and they kissed. Every time was like the first: Thrilling and heart-stopping. They smiled against one another's lips. "Hey," he said back.

"How was your day?" she asked as she took his hand and wove her fingers through his. They started walking.

"Well, it's better now," he said, stealing a glance at her.

Her cheeks burned. "You're really smooth," she said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest...neither did I. I guess you just bring it out of me."

Luan laughed. "Luan Loud, at your service."

"I'm glad you're here," Clyde said, and Luan glanced at him before looking away with a giggle. She felt so giddy, like a little girl. She squeezed his hand tighter and lifted it to her lips. "You really _are_ smooth," she said.

"Maybe the dorky Clyde you've come to know is just a façade and I'm really a Casanova."

" _Is_ it a front?" she asked and looked at him.

For a moment he didn't speak, then he looked at her, his face serious. "No," he said, "no it is not."

She laughed again. "That's okay." She looked around then leaned in. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm kind of a dork too."

"Oh?" he asked sarcastically. "I _totally_ hadn't noticed."

Her mouth fell open in a perfect O of surprise. Then she hit him in the arm. "Jerk," she laughed.

"But really, you're not a dork."

"Yes, I am," she said honestly. "I'm the biggest dork in my class."

They were on Homestead Avenue, which filtered out onto Franklin a half mile hence. It was starting to drizzle. Faded green lawns headed by ancient one-story ranch houses flanked the sidewalk. In the street, a school bus lumbered past, sending up a spray of watery mist. It stopped a couple houses down, its lights blinking. A boy and a girl about Luan's age got off and hurried across the street.

Clyde took a deep breath and looked at her. "I think you're lying."

She shook her head. "No, I really am. I mean...look at me. I'm a dork."

Clyde stopped and looked her up and down. "I..." he started, then took a deep breath. "I think you're beautiful...more beautiful than Lori."

Luan blinked, her heart soaring. "That beautiful?"

He nodded.

She leaned in and kissed him. "I like you, Clyde," she said. "I plan on keeping you around for a while."

Clyde laughed. "Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," she smiled. She squeezed his hand and started dragging him off. "Come on. Maybe we can make out before you have to go..."


	9. I Love You With All My Heart

_**You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me  
Don't you want me?  
You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me**_

 _ **It's much too late to find  
You think you've changed your mind  
You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry**_

 **\- The Human League**

* * *

Lincoln Loud stepped through the door of Pixel's Arcade at ten to three on a murky Monday afternoon. He was wearing jeans and a black Northface jacket his mother picked up on clearance at Macy's last autumn. He'd grown since then, and his wrists stuck out past the cuffs. It was warm, and during a Michigan winter, that's all that really mattered.

At this hour, the place was deserted save for a group of teenagers surrounding a shooting game. The interior was dark, and music whispered through speakers in the ceiling. Just inside, he stopped and looked around for Ronnie Anne, spotting her off to his left. She was sitting on the edge of a foozball table, sucking soda through a straw and kicking her legs back and forth, a shaft of red light from one of the bulbs in the ceiling catching her black hair and making it shimmer. Lincoln swallowed hard as he watched her. She was a beautiful girl. She didn't think she knew that, though.

There was something _he_ didn't know, and that was why she was acting so strangely today. First, she went out of her way to flirt with him at breakfast, then, after asking him to come hang out with her, he caught her staring at him more times than he could count, a hungry, dog-like look in her eyes. At lunch, she showed up again, and the whole time they talked, she giggled, touched her hair, and batted her eyelashes at him. Oh...and she was wearing make-up. Ronnie Anne Santiago _never_ wore make-up. It was far too girly for her. Lincoln couldn't blame her, since it was far too girly for him too.

 _She's acting like she likes you,_ Clyde pointed out after she left the table.

Even now he told himself that that wasn't it. God, he hoped it wasn't, he was with Leni now and he loved her. At one time he loved Ronnie Anne too, and to this day he cared very deeply about her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

 _Why didn't you do this six months ago?_ He found himself asking as he crossed to her, his heart beginning to pound. For so long he yearned for her to come around, but she never did. They remained friends week after week, month after month. Lincoln had no choice but to be okay with this, though he wanted something more with her, something that she herself apparently didn't.

When she saw him, she smiled and jumped off the table. "Hey, Linc," she said happily and went to meet him. He expected her to punch him in the arm, but instead she sucked more soda and looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "Ahhh. Want some?" she shoved the cup at him.

"No, thanks," he said.

She shrugged. "So...what do you wanna play?"

He shrugged. "It's up to you."

A shark-like smile crossed her lips, and Lincoln couldn't help but shrink back. "Why don't we play...hmmm...Pac-Man?"

"Pac-Man?" Lincoln asked.

"Sure," she said. "It's an oldie but goodie. Come on." Before he could protest, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the Pac-Man cabinet, which was wedged between Area 51 and House of the Dead. She dropped a coin in, and the music started to play.

"I'm gonna show you how it's done, Loud," she said over her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, grinning despite himself.

"I'm gonna send you crying home to your mommy."

Lincoln laughed. "Okay. We'll see."

The game started, and Ronnie guided Pac-Man through his maze, dodging ghosts and eating...what were those things, Tic-Tacs? She was doing great...until Lincoln "accidentally" hit her elbow. A ghost came up behind her and she died.

"Hey!" she cried. "That's cheating!"

"Sorry," he said innocently. "I tripped."

She made it three more levels before she died and Lincoln took over, slipping out of his jacket and tossing it aside. "Ten bucks says you die before you clear half the board," Ronnie said, crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the next cabinet over.

"Ten bucks says I don't," Lincoln said, even though he didn't have ten bucks...and even though he was sure she'd win if he did.

Unlike modern games, there is no goal to Pac-Man aside from attaining the high score and surviving as long as you can. The basic layout of the game remains largely the same, but the higher you go in levels, the _faster_ the gameplay becomes. Lincoln was flying through the maze before he even knew the game had started. The ghosts were right on his ass, and he jerked the joystick from side-to-side in a futile attempt to evade them, his heart rising into his throat as he realized that he was close to clearing half the board.

"Die," Ronnie said, leaning in, her shoulder brushing his. He could smell the sweet aroma of her soap and shampoo. "Die!"

On screen, he cleared half the board...then died.

"Ha!" he said into Ronnie's face. "Pony up."

"How about I buy you a soda instead?"

Lincoln made a show of thinking about it. "If it's a ten dollar soda, sure."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Alright, my turn." She took her place at the joystick and grabbed it with a flourish. "Now watch and learn."

She died before finishing her half of the board, and Lincoln laughed at her. She pursed her lips and looked at him. "How about we play something else?"

They played skee-ball (Ronnie kept rolling so hard the ball would bounce off the rim and come flying back), Big Game Hunter (he spoiled her aim by whispering 'miss' in her ear), and, finally, fooz-ball. They laughed as they tried to make it into each other's pockets; at one point Lincoln jerked a little too hard to one side and went down with a "Whoooooa!" Ronnie bent at the waist and laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. Lincoln jumped up and dusted himself off.

"Wow, Linc," she said, "you're really committed. Maybe I should let you win before you _really_ hurt yourself."

"I'm fine," he said.

Not five minutes later, Ronnie did the same thing, only she managed to catch herself on the edge of the table. "Damn, this place is a death trap!"

Lincoln laughed until he cried.

He lost track of time, and when he checked his phone, he was mortified to see that it was nearly five 'o'clock. "Shit," he said, "I gotta go."

"Oh," Ronnie said, looking downcast. "Well...I'll walk you home."

The afternoon was darkening, and the drizzle from earlier had picked up. They walked side-by-side, their hands shoved into their pockets and their heads bent against the rain. "How's it going with your girlfriend?" Lincoln thought he detected a tremble in her voice, and he sighed.

"Good," he said, "really good."

"That's nice," she said flatly.

When they reached his house, he turned to her.

"I had a lot of fun today," she said.

"So did I," he said.

She smiled. "We have to do this more often."

With that, she leaned in and kissed him, her tongue slipping past his shocked lips and flicking across his own. For a moment he was frozen, his eyes wide and his mind screaming. Then, he came to life and reacted without thinking, shoving her back and nearly knocking her off balance. "What are you doing?"

A hurt look crossed her face. She sighed, glanced down, then met his eyes. "Lincoln...I love you."

For a moment Lincoln simply gaped at her. He'd figured she liked him, but using the word 'love'? And coming right out and _saying_ it instead of beating around the bush? That completely unlike her. _Shockingly_ unlike her.

"Ronnie...I-I'm _with_ someone."

"I know," she said, then snatched his hand in her own, squeezing so tight it hurt. "But I love you, Lincoln. I love you with all my heart and I want to be with you. I _need_ to be with you. Please, Lincoln, you're the most perfect and beautiful boy I've ever known."

"Ronnie..." he shook his head and sighed. He yanked his hands out of her grasp. She clutched at his jacket, but he pulled away. "I _waited_ for you. I...I _wanted_ to be with you..."

"I know," she said, "I was stupid, I didn't know what a precious thing I had. I was scared, Lincoln. I was _so_ scared."

Looking into her big brown eyes, wet now with tears, Lincoln's heart broke. He wanted to put his arms around her and hold her close...a part of him even wanted to kiss her and wipe her tears away.

"Ronnie, please..."

"Do you want me to beg? I'll beg. You're _that_ important to me." She got down on her knees, her eyes never leaving his.

"Please...get up."

"I love you," she said, the tears coming faster. "I love you so much, Lincoln." Here her voice broke. "Please...love me back."

Tears flooded Lincoln's eyes. "I-I can't. I just can't."

She broke down then, bending forward and covering her face with her hands; her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. Lincoln simply watched her for a moment, misery coursing through him. He bent and laid a hand on her shoulder. That one simple touch was like throwing a switch. With a loud, prolonged growl, she brought her arms up and shoved him back, her teeth bared and her eyes flashing with hatred. Lincoln stumbled and fell, landing hard on his ass; water soaked through the seat of his jeans.

Ronnie got to her feet, her fists balled and her jaw set. Lincoln's heart crashed as she approached; in that moment, he knew how a rabbit felt when it was trapped in a corner by a hungry fox.

" _I got on my knees for you,"_ she hissed through clenched teeth. She bent, and Lincoln shrank back. _"I bared my heart to you!"_

She lashed out, and stars exploded across Lincoln's vision as her fist connected with the side of his head. He cried out as he crashed to the slick concrete.

" _I LOVE YOU, LINCOLN LOUD!"_ The air rushed out of his lungs when her foot hit his side. _"I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!"_ She kicked him again, and hot pain exploded in his chest. She drew back her foot a third time.

"Hey!" someone yelled.

She looked up, her eyes narrow and her lips a tight slash. She took a deep breath through flaring nostrils, and looked down at Lincoln.

Then she was gone, hurrying into the gathering gloom. Lincoln tried to sit up, but fire engulfed him, and he cried out.

"Oh, my God, are you alright?" Leni asked as she knelt above him. Her eyes were wide and terrified. Luna appeared next to her, followed by Lynn.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Luna asked.

"I'm gonna whip her ass," Lynn growled.

"...No..." Lincoln panted breathlessly. "I...I'm fine." He held out his hand. "Help me up."

Leni took one hand and Lynn took the other. They pulled, and he hissed as they dragged him to his feet. Leni threw her arms around him and smothered him with kisses. "My poor, poor Lincy," she said, tears in her voice. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay," he said. "Really."

His sides and stomach hurt like hell. His ribs might even be bruised. He wouldn't say so, however.

"Let's get him inside," Luna said, hooking her arm under his. On the other side, Lynn did likewise. They helped him in, and Leni trailed behind, feeling totally useless and horrible. Once the door was closed, she bowed her head and cried.

Lincy was hurt, and that made her _sad._


	10. And They Smashed it to Bits

_**I'm crazy for trying  
And crazy for crying  
And I'm crazy for loving you**_

 **\- Patsy Cline**

* * *

Ronnie Anne Santiago seethed with rage as she stormed through the rain. She was soaked and cold, but she didn't care. She got on her knees for him! She _begged_ him! What more could she do to prove that she loved him, cut her wrists and write his name in blood? Beat that bimbo sister of his to a pulp? He was so fucking _stupid_. Leni didn't love him. She was too retarded to even know what love _was_. She just wanted to keep him away from _real_ love because she was a hateful, spiteful, unhappy 'tard. Flashing, Ronnie kicked a tin can into the street. Why didn't he love her? What was she missing? She would be _so_ good to him, much better than Leni. Fuck him! Dumb, white-haired bastard! He had no _idea_ how good she would treat him!

Twenty minutes after leaving Lincoln crumpled on the sidewalk, she walked through her front door. She was soaked, and now that she was beginning to calm down, she was starting to feel it: Her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps. She peeled her hoodie off and kicked out of her shoes. In her room, she changed into a pair of pink sweat pants and a black tank top. She caught a flash of her face in the mirror over her dresser, and cringed at the make-up _she put on for him._ She grabbed a pair of underwear from the top drawer and wiped it off, pressing the fabric so roughly against her skin it hurt. In the living room, she dropped onto the sofa, drew her knees to her chest, and broke down crying again, hot tears filling her eyes and spilling down her face. Lincoln didn't love her. She blew it. The most perfect and wonderful and kind and loving and thoughtful boy in the whole world, and she let him get away. Hell, she _pushed_ him away. She was an idiot.

Putting her hands to her face, she wept harder, giving voice to the pain inside, the pain that she suspected would never go away, but would instead multiply and spread like cancer until she was riddled with it. The pain would grow and grow in her chest like a balloon, until she either exploded or hanged herself. She thought of the razor blades in the bathroom. How easy it would be to get one, draw a bath, and slide it up her arms... _that_ would show him. _Look what you did to me, Lincoln. Look what you made me do!_

She should do it. Life wasn't worth living anymore, not now that the chance of having her Lincoln was gone. He was _husband_ material! She could happily spend the rest of her life with him. Oh, they would make the perfect team. They could hug and kiss and have children and live in the suburbs, and on the weekends they could take road trips to Lake Michigan and to the forest, and he could teach their children things and she could watch and smile and love him with all her heart.

All of that...gone. Just like that. Down the drain and never to return.

She cried harder.

 _Why don't you love me, Lincoln?_

"Hey, hey, hey..."

Ronnie was suddenly in Bobby's arms, her body pressed close to his, his smell filling her nostrils and his warmth enveloping her.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, stroking her hair.

"N-N-Nothing," she said, letting herself melt into him.

"Is it Lincoln again?"

"No," she said. She was no longer crying; she was in her brother's arms, and suddenly everything was right.

"Ronnie?" he asked sternly.

She glanced up at him. His eyes were big and filled with concern. So brown. So beautiful. His love for her poured off of him in waves, and for a moment Ronnie could only marvel. How could he be so perfect and wonderful and kind and loving and thoughtful? She didn't deserve his love, or his tenderness, but here he was, smiling into her upturned face. With a gentle finger, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"You're crying over Lincoln again. Huh?"

She swallowed hard. Her heart was crashing. "Yes," she said.

"Ronnie," he sighed, "I know it hurts. Believe me, I do. I've been heartbroken too. More than once, but..."

She watched his lips move. He was so handsome. So kind. So much like Lincoln.

"...power through. I know that..."

Before she could stop herself, she was taking his face in her hands and kissing him, parting his lips with her tongue and tasting his mouth. He froze. Before he could protest, she threw herself on him, and he fell back against the arm of the couch. She drank him deeply, desperately, wrapping her tongue around his, licking his teeth, caressing the inside of his cheek. He thrashed and flailed his arms. He managed to separate his face from hers. "Ronnie!" he cried breathlessly.

She tried to lean in again, but he shoved her back and sat up. "What are you doing?"

"I love you. Bobby," she said, grabbing his shirt in her hands. "You're so perfect and wonderful and kind and loving and thoughtful. I want to be with you."

His eyes widened. "Hey, look, no, this...this isn't right, I'm your _brother_ , Ronnie."

"I don't care," she said, and she didn't. She _needed_ him. She needed him the way one needed oxygen, the way one needed blood. "You're everything to me, Bobby. You're different from all the others."

"No, this is _sick!_ "

She blinked, the tone of his voice and the hard look on his face wounding her. Please, God, not Bobby too. "I-I'll do anything," she said. She reached for his crotch, but he caught her by the arm and shoved, knocking her off the couch; she landed on the floor in a heap, rejected by the only other perfect boy in the world.

Tears overwhelmed her, and she wept into the carpet. Rejected by Lincoln, rejected by Bobby...

"Look, Ronnie..."

Rejected, rejected, rejected, rejected, rejected...two times now she'd opened her heart _AND THEY SMASHED IT TO BITS!_

Bobby touched her back, and she pulled away from him, getting to her feet. He was kneeling on the floor, watching her with anxious eyes.

" _YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN LINCOLN!"_ she screamed, balling her fists.

"Ronnie..." Bobby started to stand.

" _I HATE YOU BOTH!"_

With that, she spun and stormed into the kitchen. The world pulsed and throbbed around her; blood crashed in her temples, her steps were unsteady. She bumped against the kitchen table and a glass exploded on the floor. Pay. She had to make them pay, make them pay for rejecting her, make them pay for breaking her heart and sending her away.

Through a haze of hatred, she opened the back door and stumbled into the gloom. Rain was falling in torrents. Pay, pay, pay, make them pay.

Behind her, Bobby called out. "Ronnie Anne! Wait! Please!"

Ahead, she spotted the shed. Pay, pay, pay, make them pay. She stalked to it through soupy yard, drew her leg back, and kicked open the door.

Bobby was on the back step. "Ronnie!"

Inside, it was dark. She sent her hands forth, quested, her fingers brushing something hard and splintery.

Pay. Pay. Pay.

Bobby was coming to her, she could hear his shoes squelching in the mud. He was going to reject her again _BUT SHE WASN'T GOING TO LET HIM!_

"Ronnie Anne!" he was right behind her now. "Please, listen..."

She spun and brought the ax up. Bobby's eyes widened, and his neck tilted slightly up as it flashed down, the wicked blade slamming into his chest. Blood burst forth from the wound, and he let out a strangled cry that was masked by a peal of rare winter thunder like the approving laugh of a dark god. His feet tangled and he went down.

Panting, Ronnie Anne advanced.

Blood trickled down Bobby's chin, and his eyelids fluttered. He looked up at her, pain and terror written on his face. "I loved you, Bobby," she said, grabbing the handle and yanking the ax out of his chest. He cried out, and rich, red blood bubbled from the jagged slash. Tears came to her eyes and rolled down her face. "I-I loved you." Her voice cracked. _"THEN YOU BROKE MY HEART!"_

She brought the ax up over her head, and then back down. In the instant before it lobbed the top of Bobby's head off, he screamed.


	11. An Ax to Grind

_**Did you read it in the paper  
'Bout the danger comin' your way  
She'll tear you up at midnight  
Killer on the loose, get out of her way**_

 **\- Krokus**

* * *

Lincoln Loud sat comfortably on the couch, his head resting against Leni's shoulder. Her arm was around his shoulder, and in her embrace, everything that happened with Ronnie Anne meant nothing. Well, almost nothing. His ribs were still kind of sore.

On TV, Homer Simpson did something stupid, and both Lincoln and Leni laughed. They were home alone, the rest of their family at Pisano's, an Italian restaurant Mom and Dad loved even though the stuffed ravioli tasted funny and they used too much garlic in the meatballs. Unbeknownst to the Loud kids, Mom and Dad had been planning this night out for over a week, and when they decided to cancel on account of Lincoln's injuries, he waved them on. "I'm fine, really, I just...I'll just stay back." He wasn't lying. After sitting down for a little while, the worst of the pain abated. Now he was just sore, like he was sometimes after Lynn got too rough during a game of football. He could have gone, but he didn't feel up to it, not after the ugly scene with Ronnie Anne.

He wanted to forget about it, but Leni, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, dragged the story out of him.

"I'm so sorry, Lincy," she said miserably, "this is all _my_ fault."

"No, it's not," he said, squeezing her hand. "Please don't say that."

"But if I –"

He silenced her with a chaste kiss on the lips, and she melted. "Let's just enjoy our time alone, okay?"

So enjoy it they did. Lincoln leaned against his sister and allowed himself to relax, her warmth and her smell intoxicating him. Presently, she took his hand in hers and held it to her breast; a blush burst across his face.

"Do you feel that, Lincy?"

Her heart pounded steadily against his palm.

"Y-Yes," he stammered, suddenly warm all over.

"My heart beats for you." She leaned in and kissed his forehead. "And _only_ you."

He took her hand and held it to _his_ chest. "Mine only beats for you," he said.

She looked down at him with big doe-eyes and a bright smile. Lincoln's heartbeat increased, and love filled him. She leaned gently in, and he met her halfway, the tips of their noses brushing as their lips met and her tongue darted coyly into his mouth. He touched her face as he kissed her back, tasting her tongue and the inside of her mouth. He laid his other hand on her chest. Her heart was knocking a crazy rhythm. She broke the kiss and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you so much, Lincoln."

"I love you too, Leni," he replied, stroking her hair. He loved his older sister more than anything in this world, and he never wanted to let her go. "Do you know how important you are to me?"

"Not as important as _you_ are to _me_ ," she said, and kissed his collarbone. A shiver ran down his spine, and he giggled delightedly.

"You mean twice as much to me," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

She pulled away and looked at him, a smile dancing across her lips. "Is this our first fight?"

Lincoln laughed. "Maybe. And to think, I'm the one who's right."

"You think you are," she said, and laid her head against his racing heart. "But you're not."

"I say I am," he said and slipped his fingers into her silky hair, lightly grazing her scalp with his fingernails. She shuddered. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"No," she said thickly. "It feels _really_ good."

She snuggled closer, and he was suddenly very aware of her leg brushing against his crotch. It was warm and heavy, and he could feel himself beginning to stir. He closed his eyes and tried to fight it back. This was such a beautiful moment, he didn't want to ruin it. Hell, he never wanted it to _end_.

She shifted, and the weight was gone. His heart bounced when he realized she must have noticed. "Lincoln?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

She looked up at him, her eyes clouded. "Do you...do you want to have sex with me?"

The question knocked the breath out of him, and for a moment he could only gape at her. She watched him with those big eyes, scanning his soul. Yes, he thought with a hard swallow, he did, but was he _ready?_ Was _she_ ready? They were two weeks into their relationship, which seemed, to Lincoln at least, way too early for that. Sex is something you only did when you've done everything else, when you've given your heart and your soul completely and have nothing left to give but your body. He didn't feel that he had given her his all. Had she given him _her_ all? Were they really at that stage yet? God, you don't just jump into bed with someone all willy-nilly. Sex isn't something you do just because you were attracted. It might be a physical display of love, but it's so much deeper than that. It is the union of two people, the entwining of two hearts, two souls, and two bodies. It is the most intimate you can ever be with somebody; you are giving yourself to that person, and they are giving themselves to you, they are allowing you to see them as no one else can see them, and vice versa. Sex is the apex of a relationship. It is the seal.

Lincoln touched his sister's face and lost himself in her eyes. He loved Leni deeply. He loved her as both a sister _and_ as a lover. Society can say what it wants about incestuous relationships. Maybe they're wrong, maybe they're not. Maybe it matters, and maybe in the end it doesn't. Lincoln didn't know, but he _did_ know this: The love he and Leni shared was stronger, its foundation more stable, because before their first kiss, before they first held hands, before either one knew they were in love with the other, they _loved_ one another unconditionally. Their romantic love was like a cement wall, and their sibling love was the rebar that reinforced it.

"Yes," he finally sighed, "...when the time comes."

"I'm ready when you are, Lincoln," she said seriously, "I love you and I want to be one with you."

He leaned in and they kissed, passion rising between them, their mouths working furiously, their tongues meeting in a dance as old as time.

When a loud bang came at the door, they both jumped.

"They're back early," Lincoln sighed.

The bang came again. Why didn't they get the keys from Mom and Dad _before_ coming to the door?

Lincoln loved his sisters, but sometimes they didn't make sense.

"I'll get it," he said as Leni sat up and smoothed the wrinkles from her shirt. Lincoln stood, wincing slightly at the soreness in his side, and crossed to the door as another bang sounded.

"I'm coming!" he called. At the door, he threw back the deadbolt, turned the thumb lock, and opened it. "You really need..."

His blood turned to ice water at the sight before him: Hunched and soaking wet, her black hair plastered to her broad forehead and her eyes wide with fevered madness, Ronnie Anne Santiago stood on the doorstep. When Lincoln noticed the ax in her hands, his eyes widened.

Thunder crashed and the world went white with lightning. Ronnie cried out and brought the ax around: Moving on pure instinct, he ducked, and the blade slammed into the doorframe. Behind him, Leni screamed.

" _YOU BASTARD!"_ Ronnie screamed and she pulled the handle; the blade was embedded in the wood. Lincoln jumped up and, heart blasting, tried to slam the door. She threw it open with a cry and ripped the ax out of the doorframe. Lincoln stumbled back and she advanced, huffing like a wild animal with the scent of blood in her nostrils. "Lincoln!" Leni shrieked.

" _I'm going to kill you, Lincoln Loud,"_ Ronnie spat, _"just like I killed Bobby. YOU BOTH REJECTED ME!"_

She swung the ax in a crossways arch, but Lincoln jumped back, crashing into the end table. The blade _just_ grazed his shirt.

"Ronnie!" he screamed. "Stop!"

" _I'm going to kill you and your slut sister girlfriend!"_ She brought the ax up and then down. Lincoln ducked to one side, and the blade came down on the lamp, shattering it into a million pieces. She brought it around and sliced the air just in front of him. Leni stood frozen by the couch, her eyes wide. "Leni, run!"

A murderous grin flashed across Ronnie's face. She turned slowly to Leni, and Lincoln's stomach clenched. _"You thought you could take him away from me, didn't you?"_ Leni's face fell in terror. Ronnie started for her. _"The most perfect boy in the world AND YOU THOUGHT I'D LET HIM GO!"_

Ronnie approached and Leni shrieked. At that moment, Lincoln's paralysis broke. The world shrank to one thing and one thing only: Leni, his beloved sister, Leni, his beautiful lover...scared, tears rolling down her cheeks...in danger, Ronnie Anne Santiago stalking forward. Leni. In danger. Leni. In danger.

With a primal cry of fury, Lincoln threw himself forward, crashing into Ronnie and knocking her to the floor. She let out an angry howl as the ax flew from her hands and landed by the corner of the couch. Lincoln cocked his fist back and slammed in into her head. She howled again, fighting under him like a very powerful and very angry animal. She threw him off, and he landed on his back. Suddenly she was on top of him, her hands wrapping around his throat and her eyes blazing. _"I LOVED YOU, LINCOLN!_

Images of them flashed through his mind. Them at the arcade on a sunny day, happy and laughing; them walking home from school, a crooked grin on her face and her eyes narrowed; them in the park, chasing one another through gathering summer twilight. Her smile stopped his heart, her big, brown eyes made him weak, the sound of her voice constricted his throat. She was beautiful, and for a time, he believed she was his.

This thing on his chest now was not Ronnie Anne.

Gritting his teeth, Lincoln brought his fist around and smashed it into the side of her face as hard as he could. She yelled and toppled over, her grip on his neck releasing. He hurriedly sat up, panting for air. She lay on her stomach for a moment before getting to her hands and knees. A flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned just as Leni brought a lamp down on Ronnie's head with a cry of rage. It exploded, and Ronnie collapsed to the carpet, her back rapidly rising and falling.

Beginning to cry, Leni collapsed to a heap on the floor. Lincoln fought to catch his racing heart. When he trusted himself to move, he crawled to his sister and took her in his arms. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed, her body hitching.

On the floor, Ronnie was facing away from them, her black hair matted with blood and bits of broken ceramic. Her breathing was heavy, so heavy he could hear it over Leni's crying. Ragged. Rattling. He imagined her dying, and his stomach twisted.

With a sudden jerk, she turned her head and flopped it against the floor. Blood trickled down her forehead and the sides of her face. Her lips were parted, sucking hungrily for air. Her liquid dark eyes fell on his, and Lincoln saw such misery in them that he broke down crying too, holding Leni close and weeping into her warm yellow hair.

"Hey, why's...holy shit!"

Lincoln looked up. Through blurry tears, Lynn was standing in the doorway, her face pale and her mouth open. She looked around the living room. "That crazy bitch..."

Lori appeared behind her, then Luna and Luan, all of their faces falling in shock. "Oh, my God," Lori drew. "Are you okay?"

"No," Lincoln said, and cried harder.

As the rest of the Louds gathered in the doorway, the wind rose and the rain fell harder.


	12. I'll Come Back

The service was short. Lori stood dazedly over the coffin, stinging tears welling in her eyes. Bobby's mother sat between two men Lori didn't recognize, bent and weeping into her hands, her tiny frame shaking with the force of her sobs. One of the men put his arm around her shoulder, and the other awkwardly patted her leg, but there was no consoling her: She had lost two children, one to death and the other to madness.

Several dozen people crowded around the casket as the priest said his final words. It was a warm, sunny day in early March, and Lori couldn't help but think that it was too beautiful for something so somber as a funeral. It struck her that beyond this little plot of earth filled with its headstones and statues, life was continuing as normal. This thought brought the tears out of her, and she bowed her head. Next to her, Leni squeezed her hand and Lincoln patted her back. She looked up at her siblings, who had all gathered around her to provide silent support: Luna with her hand on Lori's shoulder, Lynn resting her head against Lori's back, Luan holding Clyde hand and stroking Lori's arm.

Lori Loud was seventeen, and while many people would say that seventeen is too young to know true love, she loved Bobby with all her heart and soul, and the grief nesting in her chest was as keen as a thousand jagged teeth constantly chewing, gnawing, gnashing. She felt as though she had lost a part of herself, and that she would never get it back, no matter how hard she tried.

She lifted one trembling hand to her mouth, kissed it, and laid it on Bobby's coffin. She lost it then, and would have collapsed if Leni and Lynn hadn't grabbed her. Whispering soft words of comfort, they led her away and into a land of ghosts and sadness.

* * *

In her room at the Michigan Psychiatric Institute outside Lansing, Ronnie Anne Santiago stared out her window at the gardens the lower level inmates were allowed to roam. She was sitting in a chair and hugging herself. Not because she wanted to, but because you couldn't do much else in a straightjacket. She didn't mind, though; she wore it as a badge of honor. _Look at her,_ it said, _she clawed a nurse's eye right out of her head._

And she did. Her only regret was that she didn't get the other one.

No one fucked with her. Not anymore. Not after Bobby, and Lincoln...

An evil smile crossed her face.

Lincoln.

 _One day, Lincoln Loud, I'll come back...and you'll be sorry._

Her laughter rose and rose until it filled the world.

* * *

 **Someone requested a Ronnie x Lincoln story. Well, you'll be happy to know that I** _ **do**_ **intend to write one. It will focus on their growing relationship. I don't have anything beyond that for now, though.**

 **A lot of you want to see more Clyde and Luan and more Lincoln and Leni. I do have an idea for a sequel in mind: Ronnie Anne escapes from the mental hospital and sets out to kill Lincoln and anyone else who gets in her way. Give me a favorite, a follow, or just keep your eyes peeled for that when it drops.**


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